


(I've got) fireflies where my caution should be

by sinbindos



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anti-anxiety medication, Canonical Drinking, Canonical Drug Use, Derek "Nursey" Nurse is Unchill, Dex has a huge family, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Homophobic Language, M/M, Maine for the summer, Minor Chris "Chowder" Chow/Caitlin Farmer, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, There will be sex in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2018-10-13 16:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10517430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinbindos/pseuds/sinbindos
Summary: Something in Dex’s jaw jumps, and he fidgets uncomfortably for a moment. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to come crash with me for a few weeks. You know. If you had nothing better to do.”Nursey’s eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline. “Are you – I mean, I know you’re high but like. Brah. Are you serious?”





	1. Chapter 1

Derek’s walk home seems to drag on forever, with the sound of a door slamming shut on repeat in his head. He hopes to god Bitty will be there (preferably alone, preferably with pie) so that he can just admit that They Were Right, and He Was Wrong, and that Matt was Bad News, and then retreat to the attic so he can wallow for a bit. At least until Dex gets back from his last exam and gives him his best unimpressed face. Hopefully if he seems pathetic enough, Bitty will tell everyone to just leave him alone for a bit.

As luck would have it, Bitty takes one look at Derek’s still puffy, red-rimmed eyes and the grim set of his mouth and says, “Oh sweetheart.” Derek scrubs a hand through his hair, and lets his lips quirk up into a small smile. “No no, I’m okay, honestly Bits, I just…” he shrugs and lets out a gust of air, “You guys were right, and it didn’t end nicely.” Bitty winces, and sets about grabbing him a slice of pie from the tin he made that morning. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really, brah. I kind of just want to go take a nap.”

Bitty nods and hands him a plate and a fork. “Go on then,” he says, “I’ll let the boys know not to disturb you. But if you need anything, we’ve got your back.” Derek smiles again, more genuine this time, and heads for the stairs.

It takes all of fifteen minutes for Derek to drop his bag and hoodie by the side of his bed, finish his pie, and curl up under his duvet. It takes another five of staring up at the underside of Dex’s bunk for the wave of lethargy that has been sitting on his shoulders since Matt had started trying to talk his way out of admitting to the guy who had dashed, half-naked, from his room moments before swept over him and pulled him under. 

.

When Derek awakens, the first thing he does is squeeze his eyes shut tight, and then whimper at how much that hurts. He tries to beat back the insecure part of his brain that automatically whips out what Matt said to him, and fails miserably. Somewhere in his head he recognizes with exhausted resignation that the words ‘not worth it’ are going to be hanging over him all summer long, and he swallows back against the ache.

“Are you… okay?” 

Derek’s eyes fly open and the first thing that registers is the sparkle of gold, before his eyes adjust to the afternoon light glinting off of Dex’s hair and eyes. He’s sitting on the floor, twisted around as if he’d been leaning against the frame of Derek’s bed but had heard him stirring and turned to check on him. “Fine,” Derek croaks, then clears his throat. “Fine. Matt and I broke up. So, you know. It’s whatever.”

“Bitty mentioned.” Dex says, a tiny crease appearing between his eyebrows. He turns back to the laptop sitting across his thighs, saves his program three times before closing the lid, and stands to place it carefully in its case on his desk. “C’mon man, it’s almost dinner. Time to get up.” Derek briefly contemplates skipping team dinner because honestly, food isn’t more important than being in bed right now. But Dex is still standing there waiting, so Derek sighs and heaves himself out of the bunk, narrowly avoiding bashing his head on the top. No need to add an actual injury to his already-aching head, still wrung out from the earlier waterworks. “Did Bitty tell the rest of the team?” he asks as they descend the stairs. 

“Yeah. Told them to lay off, threatened to revoke pie privileges if anyone so much as breathed an ‘I told you so’ in your direction.”

“That man is a saint.” Derek says, following Dex into the kitchen. 

Team Dinner is its usual crowded affair, especially since Bitty decreed it to be Pancake Day. Derek watches as Dex spears fruit onto his fork carefully, Chowder gushes about the real maple syrup, and the rest of the team shovelling food into their mouths like the animals they are. Derek is quieter than normal, but appreciates the way no one brings up Matt or the way that Dex and Chowder sit on his either side, exchanging glances when they think he’s not looking. 

After dinner, sitting on the roof watching the sun set over the neighboring frat houses, squished in between his best friends, Derek privately thinks to himself that even if he isn’t worth dating, at least he’s got friends now. It’s still better – Derek is still better. He’s passing a bowl back and forth with Dex, celebrating the end of semester, when Chowder speaks up. “What are you even doing this summer, Nursey?”

“Not much now, I guess,” Derek says. “Hanging around my parents’ penthouse. Probably get a part time at some Union Square coffee shop, for something to do. And to fuel my mad caffeine addiction. Matt and I were supposed to be doing shit together, but I guess not. You?” Chowder shoots him an unreadable look, and then glances over at Dex again. Derek mentally cringes, too aware of how his friends are wordlessly waiting for him to break down or something, too aware that it’s the first time he’s mentioned Matt all evening. 

“Well, Cait is visiting in a few weeks! And then we have a bunch of family vacations booked, since me and my sister will both be around this year. How about you, Dex?” And that, Nursey thinks, would be a normal question, but Chowder’s tone is obviously pointed. When he turns, he sees Dex’s face quickly turning bright red, and his eyebrows shoot up. 

“You got plans, Poindexter?” Nursey gives him his most lascivious grin, and takes the bowl back. “Shacking up with some lobster-loving gal in Maine?” 

“No, you ass,” Dex says, scowling and looking like he’s trying to set the Lax bros house on fire with his mind. “But I was gonna ask--” 

Something in Dex’s jaw jumps, and he fidgets uncomfortably for a moment. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to come crash with me for a few weeks. You know. If you had nothing better to do.”

Nursey’s eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline. “Are you – I mean, I know you’re high but like. Brah. Are you serious?” He swallows back the insecure nudge that’s not sure why he’d want Derek around that long, and settles for letting his eyes flicker over Dex’s face, looking for some sign of insincerity.

“Sure,” Dex shrugs. “I mean, we’ve lived in the same room all year. At least this way you’ll save me from having to share rooms with any of my cousins, and maybe I can finally teach you some actually useful skills.” 

Dex’s smirk twists up the corner of his lips, and his eyes glitter with laughter as he glances over at Nursey. Around Derek’s still-aching head and hazy, weed-warmed thoughts, he wonders absently if Matt ever looked at him with that kind of teasing smile, and then frowns at himself.

“That sounds like a great idea, Dex!” Chowder says, smacking Derek on the arm and jolting him out of his own head. “Nursey, you always said you wanted to go visit Dex’s place in Maine! Oh man, I’m so jealous, you guys are going to have so much fun!” Derek takes a second to be grateful for his skin. Even if he can feel his face heating up, because _thanks, Chowder, thanks a whole lot,_ at least no one else can see it. “You said--” Dex begins, before Derek rushes to cut him off. “I mean sure, Poindexter. I’ll come up with you. But only if you sing with me on the road trip. Car karaoke is _fuertemente alentado_ if I’m sitting shotgun.”  
“Absolutely not.” Dex says.

.

Dex refuses outright to sing with him when Derek finally gets around to plugging his phone into the jack. It’s been a whirlwind couple weeks, and the Frogs have just hugged Bitty goodbye at graduation. Derek had made sure to remind Dex that he was in charge of the music, and Chowder had made sure to remind Dex to be nice to Nursey. Still, no amount of “Brah, I’m _hurting!_ ”, “Holster serenaded Ransom!”, or “If Chowder were here, he’d sing with me!” will get him to participate, but from the way Dex’s ears look and the twisted expression on his face as he tries not to smile, Derek figures he’s having a good time anyways. 

This does not at all stop Derek from belting out the lyrics to every Brittney Spears song he can find on his phone, and kicking his feet up on Dex’s dash. Honestly, he’s kind of surprised at himself. He was expecting to have spent the last two weeks miserable and heartbroken. And sure, he is still hurt-- the day he and Matt broke up, he cried himself into a headache that had lasted a full twelve hours, and got so high he drifted off in the reading room. But Dex and Chowder had been there, warm and comfortable on either side, and every day since.

“So man,” Derek starts, still an hour and a half away from Dex’s town limits, “what about your family?” Dex glances over and shrugs. “What about ‘em? We’re getting off at the next exit for gas, by the way.” 

“That’s fine. You have a brother, right? Any other Poindexters I should know about?”

Dex laughs, and shoots Derek a look like he has no idea what he just stumbled into. “Dude, I have like, nine uncles, and all of them have a couple kids each at least.” Whatever Derek’s face is doing right now, Dex looks delighted by it, and as they turn off into a service station he punches Derek on the shoulder. “Get ready for a _lot_ of chaos.” 

Derek watches mutely as Dex fills up the tank, trying to guestimate how many cousins is too many cousins and wondering if that was the reason for Dex’s high tolerance for the boisterous behavior of the hockey team. He pulls out his notebook and jots down a couple of words, snapping it shut as Dex gets back in. “Somehow,” Derek says, “having a million cousins suits you.” 

Dex snorts and pulls them back onto the highway. “Irish Catholics. You’ll probably only be meeting my parents and Jeremy tonight,” he says. “Tomorrow’s Saturday and Saturday means cookout day, which also means you’ll meet a solid chunk of them all at once. Oh,” Dex frowns, “and you may want to stick to calling me Will.” He pauses, and then grimaces, “and if you call me Billy, I will throw you out of this moving truck. You’ve been warned.” 

“It’s chill,” Derek says, grinning when Dex – Will (Billy, Derek thinks gleefully) – rolls his eyes. 

It only takes one more 90s throwback album for them to hit Dex’s town – Will’s town, Derek reminds himself for the fifteenth time in an hour. Will rolls down the windows, a slightly nervous grin hitched on his face as he nods at Derek to do the same. After a second, salty sea air rolls in, and Will laughs breathlessly in the way Derek recognizes from the locker room just before games. He stares out over the dash as they pass a small church, drive through what must be the center of town. A couple of stores have the name Poindexter on the front, and Derek raises his eyebrows at Will, who just shrugs sheepishly. With 9 uncles and who-knows-how-many cousins, they have to own at least a few businesses in town, Derek supposes. 

They turn down a street that looks a lot more residential, and after a few more winding roads, turn onto a driveway. Will’s house is small, Derek notes, a robin-egg-blue color with a white door and floral curtains in the windows. Conservative, old fashioned, kind of what Derek expected honestly. A red-haired woman’s face appears at the window briefly, and moments later the door is pulled open. 

“Hey mom,” Will calls, grin visible in his voice as Derek heaves his bags from the back of the truck and follows him up the walk. Will pulls his mother into a hug. She’s smaller than he is by several inches, and when she turns to pull Derek into a hug too, he notices that she has the same eyes as Will. Light brown, almost amber in the quickly fading daylight. She has laugh lines, and Derek stammers out a “Nice to meet you Mrs Poindexter,” before he’s proven right and she laughs and her eyes crinkle. 

“Please, call me Barbara,” she says, leading the boys back toward the house. “Will do, Mrs P,” Derek grins, and Dex huffs.

“Stop trying to charm my mother,” he says. “It won’t work. She’s heard me complain about you for three years already.” Mrs Poindexter just laughs. 

“It _is_ nice to finally meet the boy who’s responsible for our Billy coming home and looking happy about it,” she says, a playful jab at Will and Derek both. Efficient, Derek thinks to himself. Quick and efficient. Not unlike her son. “If he liked school too much, I’d worry he’d never come back.” 

She winks at Derek, and he fights a momentary stab of insecurity before Mrs Poindexter shouts their arrival up the stairs. 

Mr Poindexter comes down first, tall and weathered-looking, laugh lines like he bought a matching set with his wife, and shakes Derek’s hand. He pulls Will into a brief hug, and steps aside to let Jeremy come down. At a first glance, Derek notices that Jeremy is bigger than Will across, probably as muscular as Derek, but not as tall. He raises his eyebrows at Will and they have a brief stare-down before they break out into identical grins and slap each other on the back good naturedly. “Jeremy, this is Derek Nurse. Uh. Derek, this is Jeremy.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Derek says. He shakes Jeremy’s hand, and hitches his bag a little higher on his shoulder. “Billy, why don’t you and Derek go put your things upstairs? I’ll start putting dinner on the table,” Mrs Poindexter says, turning to head down the hall. “And don’t forget to wash your hands!” She calls back. 

Jeremy and Will snicker.

“C’mon, Nurse,” Will leads him up the stairs and past the framed family pictures, cross-stitched pieces, and the carved wooden cross hanging at the top of the stairs. “This one’s ours,” Will says, dumping his bag on the floor and then ducking his head out to point at the other rooms. “Across the hall is Jeremy, next door is the bathroom, and my parents are just over there,” he motions, and then moves to flop back on his bed. 

“God, I never thought I’d be happy to be in this bed,” Will says, his eyes closed. “But even this hand-me-down mattress is better than those bunkbeds in the Haus.” Derek snorts, and watches with an amused expression as Will flings his arms up and crosses them behind his head. The motion is so familiar, so endearing—Derek spent the year watching Will get comfortable and knows he’s most relaxed like this, with his hands tucked behind his head and his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. “So where am I sleeping, asshole? I assume that bed isn’t made for two.” 

A light pink makes its way across Will’s face, and he opens his eyes to shoot a glare at Derek. “Definitely not. We’ve got air-mattresses.”

“Plural? Air-mattress _es_?” 

Will shrugs. “I have a lot of cousins. We all stay over at each other’s houses.” Derek feels briefly surprised, and then decides he shouldn’t be. If he had that many family members and they were stuck in a small town together, he’d probably have done sleepovers all the time, too. 

“C’mon,” Will says, clambering to his feet. “Dinner first, then we’ll set up the bed.” 

Dinner with Will’s family is a lesson in quick wit. His parents ask them about school, and hockey, and just smile when Derek says he’s an English major and wants to become a teacher. He doesn’t, but no one wants to hear about his novelist dreams, so he sticks to something practical instead. Will looks surprised when Derek says teacher, but keeps his mouth shut about it. Neither of Will’s parents went to college – from what it sounds like, almost no one in the family has. From the tone of their voices, Derek gathers that Will’s parents are a little worried about him being off at school. They seem unsure, asking questions about what kind of jobs you can get right out of school, and where jobs might be easiest to find. 

Derek tactfully neglects to mention his Andover education, his parents’ brownstone in New York, and the fact that his parents already paid for the first three years of his degree and will have no problem paying the last one. If Will’s parents are anything like him, he doesn’t want to make them think he’s bragging, or ungrateful. Finally, after second servings of potatoes and stew, Derek follows Will back up the stairs to their room. 

“Your parents seem chill,” Derek grunts as Will throws him the air-mattress from the hall closet. “How do I even set this up?” 

Will rolls his eyes and sits down cross-legged on the floor, plugging in an electric pump and attaching it to a valve on the side of the lump of plastic. It starts to inflate slowly, and in the cramped space of Will’s childhood bedroom, Derek realizes it is going to have to sit right next to Wills bed in order to fit. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool I guess,” Will says, sitting next to Derek on his bed and dropping his elbows down on his knees to watch the mattress slowly inflate. “Um. I maybe should have mentioned earlier, but I kind of—my parents are pretty conservative, you know? And Jeremy is a lot like them too,” Will looks nervous again, with less exhilaration than he’d had in the car.  
“Yeah, Poindexter, I know.” Derek says, “I noticed the cross in the hall and I haven’t forgotten the Republican sticker on your laptop from first year, man.” 

Will goes red and mutters something, a little too quiet for Derek to hear over the sound of the air mattress pump. “What was that?” He nudges Will’s foot with his own. 

“I’m the liberal one in the family,” Will confesses, scratching the back of his neck, more embarrassed at having to talk about it than Derek would have thought he’d be. “And uh. Look, I know you’re like, into guys and girls and whatever, but maybe don’t mention that in front of my parents. Or Jeremy. They probably wouldn’t say anything, you’re a guest and they’re not total assholes, and it’s not like they go around spewing really homophobic crap, they’re republicans but they aren’t totally intolerant, but they just definitely aren’t as… accepting about it as the team is. Not like… they probably just wouldn’t be down for like… like, I’m sorry if…” Will is struggling to get this out, and Derek is surprised. 

“Brah, it’s chill,” he says, cutting Will off. “I knew what I was signing up for. And it’s nothing I haven’t heard before, you know? I grew up with passive-aggressive homophobic shit too. It’s fine. Well, it’s not fine, but I swear I’m not gonna throw down with your family, dude. I’ll keep a lid on it.” 

Will is bright red, and it makes his freckles stand out, Derek notes. He nods once, still looking uncomfortable. The air-mattress, finally fully inflated, sits just the way Derek figured it would. Right next to Will’s bed, so that the door could still open in. With locker-room style efficiency, Derek gets ready for bed and trades off with Will for the bathroom. When he slips back in, Will is on his side facing the window, away from Derek. He gets the lights and settles down on his back, tilting his head to see the outline of Will’s shoulders under his blanket. Just like on roadies, Derek matches his breath with Will’s own, and lets the even in-and-out slow his anxious heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! This is gonna be a long one. Did anyone need another Maine for the summer fic? No? Too bad, I wanted one. And since Dex only has one brother in canon, and I am Attached to there being a Big Poindexter Family, he's getting a shitton of cousins. 
> 
> Title from a Softer World.


	2. Chapter 2

Will wakes up shortly after sunrise, pale light filtering in through the window. Something about being home always makes him wake up unnaturally early – maybe it’s the smell of the sea, his body’s unconscious expectation that by this time on a weekday he’d already be out on the water checking his traps. Or maybe it’s something else. Will shifts, turning onto his other side and squinting open his eyes. 

On roadies, Will was used to waking up in a room with Nurse, used to seeing his naked shoulders peeking out from under a blanket as soon as he sat up. He was used to it in their shared attic too, used to taking a moment to just listen to Nurse’s unusually slow breathing before stumbling down the ladder to the floor. Will is not used to waking up a foot and a half away from Nursey. On a separate bed, with Nurse’s face a few inches closer to the ground than his own, sure, whatever. Still way closer than normal. He isn’t sure he likes it.

Or at least, he isn’t sure he likes the way he can see all the little lines on Nursey’s face smoothed out for once, no tiny betrayals of tension between his eyebrows, or at the corners of his lips, or around his eyes. He is definitely not comfortable with the way he feels settled by that absence, like looking at Nursey asleep is calming thing. It shouldn’t be. He is super fucking over the way being this close to Nurse’s face is drawing attention to the weird tight feeling in his chest that started making an appearance at odd moments this year and— _okay, nope, that was enough of that._ Will is not playing this game. Instead, he takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up a little.

“Nurse,” Will grumbles, “Nursey. Wake up.” Nurse makes a sound of protest and curls in a little closer, and Will kicks him in the shin. “Wake up asshole, we’re going for a run. And then we’re helping set up for the cookout.” 

“If I get up will you make me coffee?” Nursey’s voice is hoarse from sleep, and he flops over onto his back to look up at Will with a bleary expression. Will rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you better be down in five minutes or so help me I will pour all the creamer down the sink.” He takes a moment to enjoy the offended look on Derek’s face - Nursey’s face – before slinking down to the end of the bed and squeezing out towards the door. “Seriously,” he says, grabbing his off-brand under armor, a pair of running shorts, and a t-shirt from his bag. “Five minutes. Let’s go.” 

It takes him seven minutes, but then Will and Nursey are out the door and down the front porch steps, trying to pace themselves as they head towards the beach. Running on sand is Will’s favorite feeling in the world, and he regrets saying it immediately when he sees Nursey’s face slip from surprised to delighted. “So poetic, Billy!” He exclaims, laughing when Will’s face goes red and twists in disgust. Will tries to aim a punch at his shoulder, but he ducks out of the way, still snickering. 

The run is refreshing, successfully managing to banish the tight feeling in Will’s chest. The brisk, early morning air, the sound of the ocean against the rocks, the boats he can see dots of in the distance are all enough that he can even hold it at bay when Nursey collapses on the beach, head thrown back and hair getting dusted by sand and rocks. 

They walk back, taking it a little easier, and pass a water bottle back and forth. “So fair warning,” Will says after a few minutes. “My family is the biggest group of morning people you’ll ever meet.” 

“Figures,” Nursey says, looking weary but resigned. “Is that because of lobster-ing?”

“ _Lobster-ing_ isn’t a thing, Nurse. But yeah. We’ll be joining Dad and Jer early on Monday.” 

“Wait,” Derek stops walking completely. “You mean _you’ll_ be joining them, right? Not we as in _me_ , right?” Will raises his eyebrows, can feel a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“What’s up, Nurse? Thought you knew what you were signing up for. I did say I would teach you useful skills.” 

With how embarrassed Nursey looks right now, Will would put good money on the possibility that if he was as pasty as Will, Nursey would be bright red. “Brah, I thought you meant like. Fixing shit! Like the shit you do around the Haus! Not being on a boat at dawn and hanging out with the sea life!” Will can’t help it, and lets out a loud laugh. “We’ll be doing the ‘fixing shit’ stuff too,” he says once he can breathe again, “but c’mon man, you really think I would deprive myself of the chance to see you on a boat?” 

Nursey shoots him an expression so close to horrified that Will is a little suspicious. “Seriously? It’s not gonna be that bad, honestly bro.”

“You say that now. Just wait until I fall overboard and you have to fish me out of the sea.” 

“If you fall overboard trying to haul up a trap I am going to be severely disappointed in your lifting skills.”

Nursey rubs at his eyes, and Will is careful to keep his gaze away from the biceps he knows are on show in sleeveless tank Nursey’s got on. “ ‘s not about the lifting, brah. Do you not remember me dumping an entire bowl of cereal on your back in freshman year?”

Will uses the opportunity to look over at Derek and narrows his eyes at him, “I will _never forget_.” Derek has the grace to look sheepish, but pushes forward. “It’s just… brah, you know this is a bad idea.” For the first time, Will notices how honestly nervous Nursey looks. “Derek, are you… you’re not honestly _scared_ are you?” 

They’ve reached Will’s driveway, and Will puts a hand on Nursey’s arm to stop him. It’s tense under his fingers, and that is definitely new. “Seriously, man. What’s the deal? What happened to _be chill_?”

Derek’s expression shutters for a moment, and then he rolls his eyes, stepping past Will with an easy shrug. “I’m on ice. I’m just saying, a dude clumsy as me should not be on a boat. It’s just asking for trouble.” Will opens his mouth, a little off-footed still, but the front door flies open and a girl with light brown hair bounds down the steps towards them.

“Billy!” 

Will has only enough time to register Nursey’s surprised noise and then Rosie is barrelling right into him, arms thrown up in the air so that he has to grab her before she bounces off him and right back onto her ass on the pavement. Will considers that she might deserve it when the first thing out of her mouth is, “Jesus, Billy, you stink!” followed by a peal of laughter. 

Rosie pushes off of Will and sticks out her tongue, as if she knows exactly what he’s thinking, and dances back a few steps. “Missed you too,” Will says gruffly, reaching out to muss up her hair. “Rosie this is Derek Nurse – Rosie’s my cousin,” he explains as Rosie sticks out a hand and shakes Nursey’s. 

“You guys had better hurry up,” Rosie says, walking backwards towards the house, “your mom’s already got stuff marinating, and I’m sick of foiling potatoes by myself. The Declans will be around to help set up in an hour or so.”

“What about your parents and Robbie?” Will asks.

“They’ll be along,” she says with a light shrug. “I wanted to head over early. I saw you guys go out running and figured no one would be helping Auntie Barb in the kitchen.”

Will nods and steers Nursey towards the stairs. “I thought you all had the last name, Poindexter,” Nursey says, stripping off his tanktop and rubbing his face on it once they get to their room. “We do,” Dex says, throwing a towel at Nurse’s back from the closet and grabbing one for himself. “But it gets confusing. So we use our uncles’ first names to distinguish between families.” He shrugs, balancing his shaving kit on top of the towel. “The Declans, the Jacobs, the Jonathans – that’s my dad – the Ricks, the Conors, the Colins, the Iains, the Michaels, and the Seans. I’m showering first.” 

And look, Will knows – he _knows_ – how overwhelming this big family can be. But he can’t help but snicker to himself at the vaguely alarmed look on Nursey’s face as he closes the door to the bathroom. By the time he’s finished showering and has wrapped the towel around his waist, his thoughts are arranging themselves neatly in his head. Years of prepping for cookouts has given him a healthy appreciation for being organized, and for a moment he forgets about the half-naked Derek Nurse in his room. 

Until he walks back in and sees Rosie sitting on his bed chatting with Nursey, who is still shirtless, and who is laughing at something – probably embarrassing about Will – Ro is saying. Will’s eyes flicker over Nursey’s tattoo briefly, a habit he can’t help even after three years of living with the guy, and settles on Rosie’s face. She’s raising her eyebrows in his direction and has a devious grin Will recognizes way too well hitched between her dimples. 

“You’re up, Nurse,” Will says, holding his towel tight as he fishes a set of fresh clothes out of his still unpacked luggage. Nursey shoots him a one handed salute with his toothbrush and walks out, leaving Will and Rosie alone. She stretches out on the bed, eyes closed, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded behind her head. The picture of relaxation. She’s at least merciful enough to wait until they hear the shower turn on before speaking.

“So does he know?” She asks. Will doesn’t even want to think about what she’s referring to. Instead, he pulls on his boxers and jeans, and focuses on doing up his belt. Next the t-shirt, throw on deodorant, towel off his hair and hang it up on the back of his door. 

“Seriously?” Rosie continues, ignoring Will ignoring her. “Billy, you know I’m not the rest of the family. You _know_ I’m not gonna breathe a word. But even your _Samwell friends_ don’t know? They could be _helpi--_ ”

“Rosie, would you _be quiet?_ ” Will hisses, and she sits up to return his glare. “I don’t know that – it’s not something I _need help with_ anyways.”

“Yeah,” Rosie snorts, scooting forward over the air mattress until her feet are on the floor. “Sure. It only took me locking you in a _literal closet_ with Brady for you two start dating. And then fake dating him myself so you two could have an excuse to hang out.” Will went back to ignoring her. 

He might have missed her. He definitely adores her. Does _not_ mean he has to acknowledge her. Especially right now.

“Look,” she says at last. “I don’t care if you tell people or not. You know I don’t. But at least mention it to the guy you’re majorly crushing on--”

“Rosie I _swear to god if you don’t keep it down--_ ”

“Oh come on, he’s showering!”

“He’s my _roommate_ , Ro! He’s my d-man! I literally cannot do this with him. It’s not happening, okay?”

Rosie’s unimpressed face looks exactly like the one their fathers share, and she lets out a gust of air as the shower turns off. “Fine. I’ll drop it for now. God. You’re such a sucker for green eyes though, honestly.” 

When Derek walks into the room, Will is still bright red. “Mad flush, Poindexter,” Nurse greets him, and then pauses, glancing at Rosie. “Er. Poindexter #1.” Rosie snickers as she slips out to give Derek some privacy. _Intentional_ , Will thinks in irritation, studiously avoiding looking at Nursey bent at the waist pulling on his clothes. 

They go downstairs, say good morning, and quickly drain cups of coffee and bowls of cereal, standing against the wall as Will’s mom preps and sets dishes aside and Rosie works on a potato salad. Will thinks it still counts as “too early for this shit”, but the Declans arrive nevertheless, three little monsters in tow. Nursey steps forward to shake his uncle’s hand, and then steps back in surprise as Eddie and Liam, the six-year-old twins, scream at Will for a full five minutes before running outside through the back door. Will’s aunt sets their daughter down on the ground. 

“Will!” she says with a soft smile. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

The youngest of Will’s aunts, Auntie Sarah still seems a little too good to be true to Will – she’s always treated him like an adult, and he watches her pull Derek in for a hug, envying her easy familiarity. Still a little wobbly on her feet at almost-two-years-old, Lily runs into his legs with her arms up, wanting to be carried and too shy to use words in front of someone she doesn’t know. 

“The worst little monster of all!” He laughs, effectively distracted from watching Nurse charm his favorite aunt, and hoists Lily up. Will nuzzles at her cheeks, biting playfully at her fingers when she tries to push his face away. He continues to ignore the feeling in his chest as Nursey’s voice melts into something adoring, trying to coax giggles out of his littlest cousin. 

There are still a couple more hours of prep involved before the next of the Poindexters arrive, so while Rosie and Auntie Sarah and his mom keep busy in the kitchen, Will and Nursey and Uncle Declan join Jeremy and Will’s dad by the makeshift grilling station in the backyard. Uncle Declan claps them on the shoulders and cracks open a few beers to pass around. _Day drinking,_ Will thinks to himself dryly, remembering the last pie he baked with Bitty. _Day drinking and manning the grill. Classic Poindexter men._ He catches Nursey’s eye over Lily’s blonde curls, and shoots him a smile. At least he’s not alone. 

.

After a few more hours everyone is settled, lounging in the rickety old chairs by the table, kids sprawled on picnic blankets in the grass, and Will is impressed at how well Derek seems to be holding up. As far as Will can tell from where he’s been tumbling with his younger cousins, Nursey has held court with every aunt and uncle, and even briefly with Jeremy, lightly explaining and re-explaining his desire to teach. Funny, Will thinks as he watches Derek laugh at Auntie Sarah. He had thought Derek wanted to be a novelist or a poet or some other hipster pursuit. 

Will wanders into the kitchen to grab another beer, and when he emerges, some of the clan seem like they’re ready to start packing up and hauling back home. It’s barely sunset, but Will smiles and nods and helps sort out whose things are whose. With so many younger cousins, keeping an eye out for toy ownership can be a useful skill. It prevents the car-seat tantrums over missing favorite items, at least. 

By the time they’ve bid everyone goodbye, Will is exhausted. Exhausted and ready to fall face first into his mattress. But not before traditions are respected, he thinks happily, and shoves a few beers into Nursey’s hands. “Coming Rosie?” He asks as they brush past her, and she laughs delightedly. “Don’t tell me there’s more?” Derek whispers. “You’re family’s cool, man, but if you have other cousins hiding in your closet or something, I don’t know if I can handle that much–” 

Nurse’s expression gets more puzzled when Will leads them to the bathroom, Rosie pushing on his back eagerly. “Not that I don’t love drinking in a bathtub, but uh…” Derek trails off, his expression finally brightening as Will pushes up the window and ducks his head and torso through it. 

Derek passes Will the beers and then follows him up, and they balance there for a moment, waiting for Rosie to climb out too. “You coming, Jer?” she asks, and Will is unsurprised when he hears Jeremy decline from somewhere inside. “Then gimme a hand, boys,” Rosie says, grinning up at them from next to the toilet. She’s tall for a girl, but so slender Will can lift her out with one arm. Together they sit back against the roof, Nursey squished between the two Poindexters, elbows on drawn up knees, a beer dangling between his hands. 

Will thinks about how Nursey’s fingers are long, and pretty, and only notices that Derek and Rosie have been talking when he gets an accidental elbow to the ribs. “Really?” Rosie giggles, leaning forward to shoot Will a look of pure mischief, “You have no idea?” 

“Not even a little bit,” Nurse says. “I’ve gone through three relationships in three years, and I have yet to see Billy here look twice at anyone. His taste is a mystery to all.” Will can feel himself turning red. “Well,” Nursey amends, “except for that girl in first year, what was her name, Kati- _oof._ ” 

Will rubs his hand all over Nurse’s face. “I will toss you off this roof, Nursey, I swear to God.” Nurse is snickering, and Will continues to try to give him a facewash. “Don’t tell my _baby cousin_ my hook-up history—”

“Hey, screw you, we’re like 13 months apart at most—”

“Wait, are you saying you have had more hookups than just Katie?”

“Fuck off, of course I have, just because I’m not _you_ —”

There’s a sudden silence, and Will doesn’t want to look at Nurse’s face right now. “I’m not vocal about this shit, okay?” he says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m not – I mean, I just. I can’t, okay?” Will pushes himself to his feet, suddenly desperate to go back inside.

“Billy…” he hears Rosie say, and he shakes his head, slipping back through the window before either of them can say another word. 

Will strips down and slides into bed immediately, flicking off the lights so he doesn’t have to look at Nurse again tonight and be forced think about everything he’s not allowed to want. It’s a long while before Derek slips in, and even with his back to the door, Will can hear how he hesitates before getting in bed himself. Silence stretches between them, and Will knows Derek knows he’s not actually asleep. 

Still, he doesn’t say anything, and neither does Nursey. But even though Nurse drives him crazy, the familiar presence at his back nibbles away at the tension in his shoulders. So Will keeps his eyes closed and surrenders himself to sleep, exhaustion from the day seeping into his head and pulling him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Irish, "legal drinking age" is just a suggestion.
> 
> This chapter was a little shorter than I had originally intended, but I'm too tired to write it better right now. I reserve the right to change the number of chapters I have roughly laid out in my plans!
> 
> Questions? come cry with me on tumblr at sinbindos - I'll probably be posting extras there as I power through this! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

All the next day Derek can feel a light itch under his skin, even after stealthily taking his meds with breakfast. Arguing with Will isn’t a new thing, and Derek knows he’s been pissing him off since their first week at Samwell. But they’d been doing so well the last year, and Derek has always hated feeling like he’s on thin ice. They had gone for a run in the morning, helped out with clean-up duty, and even though Will is talking to him and acting normal, Derek is nervous. Not _quite_ anxious, he thinks hopefully, but definitely nervous. 

It dims somewhat when Jeremy pauses his yard work to mention that Billy’s truck is looking worse for ware, and Will just lights up. Derek is surprised – in the last two days, he’s been noticing that Will and Jeremy don’t really talk too much. They had thrown a football around on cook-out day, but really only interacted tangentially. He is knocked out of this thought by the sneaky grin on Will’s face when he whips his head around to look at him. “ _You_ banged up the outside,” Will says to Jeremy. His eyes still on Derek, pinning him in place. “But she’s running like a dream. C’mon, take a look.”

Jeremy is apprenticing as a mechanic and Poindexter men, Derek decides right then and there, should all change their names to “Mr.Fix-It.” Jeremy leads them around the side of the house to the driveway and Will mentions Derek’s ineptitude at – well, most useful things – in such a way that Jeremy gives him a blank, uncomprehending look and then starts pulling tools out of a toolbox with _JFP_ on the front. 

Will and Jeremy’s conversation lasts longer than Derek has ever heard either of them speak at one time, with long, complicated questions from Jeremy and detailed, precise answers from Will. He sees Jeremy give an approving nod once or twice, and doesn’t miss Will’s smile widening in response. Then the spotlight turns on him, and both Poindexters are teaching him how to change oil and learn what pieces are what. 

As it turns out, Derek really enjoys working on the truck. He knows it has a little to do with the calming process of systematically checking things and keeping his hands busy. But he knows it probably has more to do with the way Will is smiling as he talks Derek through step after step, grinning a little wider when Jeremy interjects with advice, and batting his hands away when he’s about to do something stupid. 

By the time they slip into their beds again that evening – earlier than Derek has ever gone to bed in his _life_ , but apparently necessary – Derek is mostly calm. His heart rate picks up again uncomfortably in his chest when Will lies on his side facing away, just like the night before, but he tries to push through the wave of insecurity.

“Hey Derek?” Will says, breaking the silence and making Derek jump slightly. Will must hear him jolt against his sheets, because he turns over, light brown, almost amber-colored eyes looking big and dark in their unlit room. “We’re getting up before dawn.”

“You mentioned.” Derek says, a little puzzled.

“I know. But you didn’t seem comfortable with the idea on Saturday, so. I guess I just wanted to… check in?” Will looks painfully uncomfortable again, and Derek can’t help but think that in the last few days, Will has made the effort to stumble through a few subjects that have made him look like this. It’s unusual, and Derek is kind of touched. After a year of bickering, another year of making peace by finding common ground (mostly chirping Chowder), and a third year of learning how to share a living space, they do their best not to talk about uncomfortable things. 

“I’m scared of the ocean,” Derek blurts out before he can think better of it. Will just blinks. “Not like, the beach or shit,” Derek can feel himself backpedalling hard, “but just the open ocean. It freaks me out. I don’t like not knowing what’s down there, and that much water everywhere… plus, brah, drowning is like, one of the shittiest ways to die, you know?” 

Derek does them both a favor and cuts himself off. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with the _ocean_ , per se. But when the itch under his skin turns into something more, when breathing apps and calming gifs stop working and everything starts to spiral a bit, when he gets so irrationally caught up that he can’t remember any of his tools, the only thing he can think is _this is what it feels like to drown_. The ocean looks like his anxiety feels. But even without that way-too-much-information fact thrown in, it’s still the most personal thing he’s ever told Will. 

“You _can_ swim, right?” Will asks after a moment, sounding skeptical, and Derek tries to stifle his laughter in the quilt he’s curled under. “Yes, _Billy_ , I can swim. I’m not totally useless, you know.” From what little he can see in the growing darkness, Derek is fairly sure Will is blushing.

“Shut up, I know that,” Will says. “You were actually pretty good with the car today.”

It sounds like an admission, and Derek grins. “What’s this, Poindexter? A compliment? Has hell frozen over? What alternate world did I enter when we drove into Maine?”

Will shoots him his unimpressed look, and Derek feels warmed by it. “You’re a moron,” Will huffs, then tugs his blanket further up his shoulder and closes his eyes again. “Goodnight, Derek.”

“Night, Will.” Derek says, soft. He keeps his eyes open a little longer, watching the signs of awareness fade from Will’s face. It’s soothing, he decides, a little blearily. And breathing together, Derek thinks that watching Will fall asleep is a little like watching the ocean from a safe place, and he kind of likes that. 

.

The next morning, Derek wakes up to Will’s alarm clock and he has never been so irritated by Bon Jovi in his life. They pull on what Will’s dad had called “good working clothes” which, Derek was advised, would be covered by hip waders. Derek takes one look at them and decides that if he has to wear orange pants that go up too high and are held onto his body by suspenders, he’s going to _rock them_. Will watches him get comfortable with his eyebrows up, and Derek shoots him a wink, successfully breaking through his impassive expression and making his ears go red. 

Lobster season, it turns out, really starts to pick up in late June, so there isn’t too much to do. It makes now the perfect time to learn, Will says. His Uncle Conor nods from his place at the bulkhead, and chuckles whenever Derek screws something up. “Don’t worry, son,” he says, clapping a hand on Derek’s shoulder when he drops a lobster on Will’s foot. “You’ll get the hang of it. Billy struggled too his first few times. Though he was a teenager, then.” Uncle Conor trails off thoughtfully. Derek figures he was trying to be supportive, and decides not to be offended by the comparison.

Despite being scared shitless of the ocean, Derek is a little surprised how comfortable he is. Will seems to have taken his admission to heart, wordlessly handing Derek a life-jacket before they boarded, pointing out that the ocean was pleasingly calm, and that there wasn’t a storm in sight. He also gives Derek a tour of the boat, pointing out all the safety features in a way that Derek thinks is supposed to be subtle but isn’t really, while Uncle Conor steers them out to sea.

Derek takes extra precautions anyways. Possibly an excessive number of precautions. Before leaving, he took a Ziploc bag from Will’s kitchen and put a single Xanax into it, made sure it was airtight and then slipped it into his back pocket just in case he needed it. He took his normal medication as usual, slipping it into his mouth while Will was preparing two thermoses with coffee. He even spent the car ride trying to do a mental rundown of his breathing exercises, but got distracted by Will’s sleepy yawn from the driver’s seat in the truck. He triple checked the weather, reminded himself that he had taken several years of swim lessons, and had decided he would fight Will for the right to wear a life jacket, though that hadn’t been necessary in the end. 

The day passes without any of the dramatics Derek has expected. He hits his head on the pot hauler exactly once, scowling when Will laughs at him, and manages to stay away from the edges of the boat for the most part. Will calls him over and stands next to him occasionally, showing him what to do with traps and ropes and looking more at home on this boat than in his parents’ house. But being close to the edge isn’t so frightening when he’s watching Will’s thick, rough hands and his strong freckly arms as they burn through task after task. 

Derek forgets about the Xanax in his back pocket and lets himself enjoy the process a little bit. It’s not really his thing, not something he could ever love doing as a job, but feels more ready to face a summer of it, especially if Will’s at his side the whole time with his snarky laughter, his fond exasperation and his unfamiliar patience. That last one Derek feels he could really get used to, and then stops thinking it when Will snaps at him to pay attention. 

This is definitely a summer better spent than alone in New York, or even – a little voice in Derek’s head hesitates to say – even a summer spent with Matt. 

.

Much to Derek’s surprise, weeks slip by quickly. They go out on the lobster fishing boat, they survive a number rainy days and another few choppy ones. And although they make Derek more uncomfortable than he wants to admit, Will seems to stay aware of it. He lets Derek hang back on those days and do the sorting instead. He can even huddle under the standing shelter when he needs a minute to breathe. Will doesn’t say a word, just shoots him a smile over his shoulder and gets back to work. When his weather app forecasts rain or wind or both, Derek carefully packs his Xanax and runs through his lists in his head. The ones that remind him that he’s safe, and that Will’s got his back, and that they’re all going to be fine. 

Since lobster fishing days end early, they go home and get some house-work done, or run errands for Mrs Poindexter. True to his word, Will teaches him how to repair things. Derek is getting used to this patient side of Will. He watches him when they visit his uncle’s repair shop, lending a hand at installing air conditioning units and washing machines. A few times, he catches himself thinking that it’s no surprise Will is the way he is, but then he gets flipped on his head again when Playful Will starts teaching his younger cousins to help out. He adopts this voice, Derek realizes. It’s less snarky and more teasing, a little softer – though not by much. It’s more his attitude, calmly directing small, still-soft hands and just smiling when they do something wrong. He texts Chowder about it once or twice, but gets back a lot of exclamation points and pointed questions Derek doesn’t want to think about answering. Instead, he writes for a few minutes every night, and it keeps the worries at bay. 

Saturdays are all the same, rotating around one of the many Poindexters’ homes, and Saturday evenings are for drinking on Will’s roof with Rosie. They don’t bring up Will’s dating life again. But Sundays are Derek’s favorite. Those are for helping out around the house, working on the truck, watching Will and Jeremy get covered in black smudges. They start skyping C before bed, and he is reliably enthusiastic about their weekly debriefing – when he isn’t being distracted by Farmer’s hand on his knee, or his sister chattering away in the background. They go to bed early. It’s exhausting, it’s non-stop, it’s physical, and Derek loves it. He loves it in the same way he loves hockey. It’s pure, unthinking feeling. And Derek _likes_ not having to think.

One Monday morning, however, _just_ when lobster season is starting to pick up and Uncle Connor starts really putting Will and Derek to work, the storm warning that Derek had been tracking moves in faster than normal. He’s been preparing himself mentally all weekend, but it’s come a day early and that throws him off. Will glances at him every minute or two as they drive through the downpour early before dawn that morning. 

“Derek,” he says. Derek doesn’t reply, just hums a little, trying to pitch his voice up at the end so it still sounds like a question.

“I’ve been out in weather like this a hundred times before, man, and it’s always fine. You get soaked to your underwear, but you’re fine. But it’s cool if you don’t want to come?” It’s a statement, a fact. But Will is making it into a question.

“No, uh.” Derek clears his throat, “No it’s okay. Uncle Connor is really gonna need the extra hands today, right? Plus, it’s not the first time we’ve done this in the rain. Now it’s is just a little worse. It’ll be okay.” It sounds convincing enough to Derek’s ears, but Will doesn’t lose his strained expression.

“Seriously dude—”

“Will.” Derek cuts him off, trying for firm. Will pulls into the docks and turns to face Derek completely. Derek looks over once, but he recognizes that prolonged eye-contact is not going to help his cause right now. Instead he softens his voice again, trying to reassure him. “Honestly, I think it’ll be okay. Am I a little freaked out? Yeah, brah. Absolutely. But I’d been mentally prepping myself for this anyways.” He quirks his lips into a half smile, and glances over again. “Besides, you got my back, right?”

Will nods, eyes fierce. “And if I fall into the ocean you’ll fish me out?” Derek hates that he can hear his own voice waver a little at those words, and Will’s hand twitches like he wants to reach for Derek’s and it derails him a bit. He knows he’s staring at Will’s fingers now, wishing for the contact, and he almost misses it when Will’s shoulders relax a bit. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve got you.”

“Then let’s do this.” Derek offers his knuckles for a light fist bump, the best he figures he’ll get right now, and they pull their hats on and zip their waterproof jackets up to their chins. _It’s like a hockey game,_ Derek says to himself firmly. _It’s like a hockey game with mad defense on the opposing team._ The second he gets on the boat, he realizes that in his distraction this morning, he hadn’t put his Xanax in the pocket of the fresh pants he’d pulled on. 

“You okay?” Will asks, peering at him through the darkness, and Derek swallows his panic and forces himself to nod. “I think I have water in my pants already.” Will just snorts and turns back to securing everything, and Derek shakes himself. _You are an NCAA hockey defenseman. You get hit into walls by huge guys on a weekly basis, and you hit back. You can handle one storm._

After an hour, Derek is doubting his athleticism. He might be stronger than Will physically, but there is no way he’s tougher than Will is in this moment. Derek hasn’t taken a hand off some fixed object since they got on the damn boat, and Will is a beast, dragging traps out of an ocean that’s roaring for him to fall in, pulling up creatures that live so far down Derek is sure the ocean isn’t giving them up willingly. After another two, he’s reassessing every life choice that brought him to this moment. This is hell. Why did he even get on this fucking boat in the first place? He hates the ocean. He is _terrified_ of the ocean. Why did he agree to this? 

Normally, Derek is amused by this process. Will’s hands are a blur sorting through lobsters, picking and choosing with a slight furrow in his brow. He also gets a strange sense of satisfaction watching the hens get thrown back. Will’s precision takes a break as he tosses each lobster from the moving boat, and the lobsters look so surprised in the seconds before they sink back under the surface that it makes Derek want to laugh. But nothing is funny right now.

“Here,” Will shouts over the din, “help me with this one.” 

As much as Derek hates being near the edge in this weather, he can’t watch Will doing this without being there next to him. He starts sorting the second trap, focusing on his hands and not getting pinched and the feeling of Will next to him. They keep working. They lean all their weight into the pot hauler and stick close to each other. They hold tight around massive waves, and Derek is grateful for the strap under his chin holding his hat to his head. Even if he’s pretty sure he’s more soaked than he’s ever been in his life. 

And then Will loses his balance as a towering wave tips the boat at an odd angle, and the rope he’s holding strains under his fingers like the ocean is tugging back. Derek has his hands on Will in a second, one on his hip and the other helping him keep his hold on the cage. The boat teeters precariously, and Uncle Conor is shouting something, and Will’s face is intense and focused. His jaw is clenched, and he has the same look on his face when he’s bracing himself for a check, Derek realizes absently, around the fear and adrenaline coursing through him.

Derek’s distraction is dangerous though, and he becomes startlingly aware of this as Uncle Conor shouts something with new alarm in his voice and he doesn’t look up until it’s too late. He does manage to see Will’s horrified expression, however, before one of the filled crates come lose and knocks the legs out from under him. 

Everything is noise in Derek’s ears, the same way it gets during a bad hit on the ice, but it’s coming from far away this time. He’s sliding across the crate, away from Will, towards the edge without a grip on anything. Everything is wet, everything is messy, and they tip again. Waves splash up over the edge of the boat like reaching hands, and Derek loses his sense of right-side-up until his hip crashes into it and his body jolts, rolling and following the path up and over. The ever-larger voice in Derek’s head – a mocking version of his own voice, maybe – notes that he wouldn’t even know where to start calculating the physics for. Will would probably know. He’s more the mathy type. 

Derek can see the water, closer to his face than he would normally be cool with, but it’s not coming any closer. There are tight bands across his chest and hip, and they’re constricting his lungs uncomfortably, pulling back in a way that makes Derek feel sure there will be bruises later. The waves that had been licking at his face hungrily, ready to grab him, are receding. Or, no. Derek is receding. It’s Will, he thinks, the first rational thought breaking through his haze. Will’s got him, like he promised. Will can _always_ get him, as far as Derek is concerned, but he isn’t very right now so he turns in Will’s grip and puts his own hands on Will’s arms, hard and reassuring. 

Derek hits the deck at his hip and shoulder, and gasps in pain, the sound lost in the wind. Will’s arms are gone, and Derek blinks open his eyes. He can see his back turned, fastening down the crate and checking the other ones, methodical once more. And then he’s there, the warm amber-brown of his eyes flickering between Derek’s own green ones, concern and – Derek thinks maybe its fear? – not stopping at his gaze, but continuing out to his hands, which are checking Derek for injury. Rough hands run up his arms, across his shoulders, down his sides, up to his face.

“Derek, Derek, are you okay? You’re safe, we’re heading back. Are you hurt?”

“T-t-” Derek tries to speak, but his teeth are chattering. “Told you you’d have my back,” he manages to spit, and is rewarded with Will’s ‘are you kidding me’ face. It lasts all of a second before Will’s hands are back on his shoulders, pulling him in until Derek’s face is buried in Will’s neck, and he lets his eyes slip closed, sagging into the smell and feel of Will’s arms. Derek drifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for anxiety and Derek dissociating after a few hours of being friggen terrified.
> 
> Lobster boat fishing can be really dangerous okay, serious respect to those guys!
> 
> Thank you for reading! come find me on tumblr at sinbindos, where I'm probably going to be posting the extra pining scenes I have to keep removing because it's Too Much - even though, let's be real, pining is ALWAYS too much.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time they pull back into the harbor, Derek is up and moving again. But even though he seems calm, Will is very alarmed by how robotic he’s being. He’s not sure if Derek is layering on the “chill” or what, but he hadn’t said a word since Will stopped being able to help himself and pulled him into a hug. Frankly, he’s not sure how to make him feel better. They unload what they managed to get from the traps, Will says goodbye to Uncle Conor, and then he steers Derek back towards the truck. 

“Derek,” Will says the minute they’re in, throwing off his hat and turning in his seat. “Are you okay?”

Derek doesn’t reply but gives a stiff nod, looking down at his hands. “Can I grab you some… some tea? You like tea, right?” Derek just nods again. It’s frightening Will, how Derek seems to just be all… hollow inside. Like he’s just kind of empty. So Will says, “Put your seatbelt on,” watches Derek do it, and then pulls out and drives toward home as quickly as the still-ongoing storm will allow. 

As soon as they get in, Will ushers Derek up the stairs to their room, then runs back down to make tea and get some food. They’re home earlier than normal, though it’s darker outside than it usually is and the rain is pounding down on the roof. “Billy, is that you?” His mother asks from the den. 

“Yeah, hi mom.”

“Uncle Conor called. He said Derek got hit by a crate and almost went over – is he all right?” 

For once, Will is grateful that his mother knows how risky lobster fishing can be. With a low survival rate in men overboard, accidents on the boats are taken seriously. “No,” he says, pulling out two mugs and grabbing the tea tin from the pantry. “I mean, yeah he’s fine. A little shook up, but. He’ll be fine. Just needs to get warm.” 

His mother watches him from the door as he rummages through the fridge for sandwich things. Derek likes turkey, right? Will knows he won’t eat ham, but he figures turkey is safe. They had that at hausgiving once and it was okay. He prepares the sandwiches and pours out water for tea, hardly sparing his mother a glance. “Hey, baby,” she interrupts, and when he looks up at her she’s got a small furrow in her brow. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I didn’t get hit by anything.”

“That’s not what I meant,” it’s a little chiding, and Will doesn’t really want to talk about it. “I know. But I’m fine, mom, really. We’re just going to… uh… _chill_ , I guess. For a bit.”

“Uncle Conor said not to bother coming in tomorrow.”

Will’s head whips up at that in surprise. They’d only done half the work they meant to today. “Jeremy is going to take over for you, and Auntie Edie’s brother is visiting and agreed to help out, too.” 

“I—okay.” Will says, still a little confused. His thoughts are still upstairs with Derek, and he’s having a hard time focusing. “Okay, cool. Thanks, mom.” 

He sets everything onto the tray they usually use for mother’s day and whenever one of them gets sick, and when he passes his mom, she makes him pause with a hand on his arm to press a kiss to his cheek. “Go on, then.” He takes the stairs two at a time, holding carefully so the tea doesn’t spill. 

He doesn’t knock before entering their room, and notices that Derek is exactly where he left him, sitting on the edge of the slightly uninflated air mattress. Will leans to set the tray down on his bed, and then strips down into sweatpants and his Samwell Men’s Hockey t-shirt. 

“C’mon Nursey,” he says, throwing his favorite long sleeve shirt at Derek’s shoulder. “Get changed. You’re still wet.” Will turns around so Derek can pull on the soft sweats Will set in front of him – they’re his oldest pair of sweatpants, worn and crazy cozy, and Will is a little unnecessarily protective of them – and the shirt, and then stands there looking lost until Will turns back around and pokes at his shoulder. “Onto the bed,” he says, pointedly ignoring the blush he can feel at the back of his neck. “We’re watching a movie.” 

They both sit on Will’s bed, backs against the wall, shoulder to shoulder. Will’s laptop sits across his lap, angled so Derek can see it, and Will drags over the tray. “Here,” he says, passing Derek a mug of tea and balancing a sandwich on the knee he’s pulled up to his chest. “Chamomile, and turkey with cheese.” Derek takes a sip of the tea, and exhales deeply. 

Will puts on the Lord of the Rings because he figures Derek isn’t going to care and it’s a long movie so they’ll have time enough that hopefully he’ll start unwinding and come back from wherever almost falling off a boat has sent him. Will quickly accepts that he has no idea what he’s doing.

They eat and drink in silence for a few minutes, and when they’re done the sandwiches Will drags the quilt off Derek’s air mattress and tugs it over them. Derek sinks down a bit. He looks exhausted, but more aware than before. After a few more, Will glances down in surprise as Derek leans his head against his shoulder. He can smell Derek’s hair, see the way it’s curling against Will’s collar bone, and without thinking slings his arm over Derek’s shoulder and pulls him in. 

He hates himself immediately. A little because Derek loses a bit of the tension in his shoulders with Will’s arm around him and that makes him unfairly pleased. But also because with the feel of Derek’s breath on his neck, the smell of Derek around him, and the feel of him curling into Will’s side, he can’t help the small, badly timed rush of _want_ he feels. He thinks he deserves a pat on the back for the quilt and laptop covering that entire portion of his body, and it’s not like he’s _hard_ , but there’s definitely a nudge of interest, and _not the fuck now_ Will is shouting at himself. 

After a while, Derek picks his head up a bit. “Thanks,” he says, his voice slurring a little. “For earlier. Saving my ass. Cool shit, Poindexter.” They’re casual, but his tone is soft and sincere, words pushed together like he’s making a serious effort to say them. Will can feel his heart in his throat. “You really freaked me out, man,” he says quietly. “Knew you were clumsy as shit, but didn’t think you’d actually make a break for the water.” Derek shivers against him, and Will tightens his arm, sliding it down so it’s around his waist. He’s nervous, and hardly notices his fingertips have started rubbing little circles into Derek’s side until he hums. “Feels nice,” he says, and noses a little into Will’s shoulder. Derek’s breathing evens out in time with his own and Will holds extra still.

After a while though, Will realizes that there is a distinct problem here. He cranes his head, checking that Derek’s eyes are closed, then fumbles with his right hand to grab his phone off the window sill.

**Christopher “Chowder” Chow**

Dude help.  
SOS seriously wake up I don’t know what to do.  


Oh no!! what’s wrong?  


I’m stuck. Derek is asleep on my shoulder.  
He almost fell off the boat this morning, and he’s wiping out hard.  


Since when do you call him Derek??  


Shut up it’s a bad habit okay. Now help me!  


Is he okay?  


Physically? Yeah, I guess  


Did he take his meds today?  


Nursey needs meds?  


For his anxiety. You lived in the same room as him for a year,  
how have you not noticed this?  


Nursey has anxiety?  


Yeah, bro! You really didn’t know?  


No, he never told me

 

Will frowns down at Derek’s head, wondering how he could have missed that. They’ve known each other for three years, and Chow is obviously aware. Why didn’t he make the cut? He’s still thinking about this and getting more frustrated by the second when his phone buzzes again in his hand. 

**Christopher “Chowder” Chow**  


Nursey takes his meds every day with breakfast.  
He also keeps an anti-anxiety on him most of the time, just in case.  


Just in case? Just in case of WHAT?  


I dunno, panic attack? Something like that?  


This doesn’t LOOK like a panic attack…  


What does it look like?  


It looks like he’s gone all hollow and empty. I mean it did. I fed him  
and stuff. He had some tea. Finally got him to talk a little.  
We were watching lotr and he fell asleep on me.

 

 

There’s a long pause, and Will is trying not to be impatient, but what the hell, why didn’t Derek tell him? Will always knew he wasn’t as chill as he tried to seem, but he figured it was just because he was an awkward dork. And he definitely isn’t wrong about that. But anxiety that requires actual medication? That is like, Ransom levels of stressed out. And Holster _definitely_ knew about those, he practically—

 

**Christopher “Chowder” Chow**  


S’wawesome! The internet says you did good! Let him sleep I guess?  
And ask him when he wakes up if he needs anything?  


Yeah okay. Thanks, C.  


Good luck!! Skype me if you need anything!

 

 

Will turns his screen off, and drops his head back against the wall. Derek seems to wake up a little at that and makes a soft sound in the back of his throat that makes Will’s heart clench. “C’mon man,” he says. “Time for bed.” Derek seems entirely unwilling, but Will tugs him until he lies down. Right on Will’s own bed. Of course. 

He shuts the laptop and puts it on Derek’s mattress, then lies down on his back cursing literally every god when Derek curls into him again. He bites back a whine. But he’s a sucker for pain and puts his arm around him anyways, rubbing circles into his shoulder with his thumb again and watching him go all soft-boned and relaxed. Will’s own personal hell, and he put himself there. He _is_ tired, though not the way Derek seems to be, and closes his eyes. They don’t do this. Cuddling is strictly off limits between them. But if that’s the only thing Will _can_ do right now, he’ll do it and damn the consequences. 

 

.

 

When he wakes, Derek has rolled away from him and is definitely awake too given the way he’s pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. Will’s a little worried about _how hard_ he’s pressing, honestly.

“Derek?” he says, voice sleep-thick. He props himself up on his elbow and squints down at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Derek says, sounding more awake than Will but not by much. “Sorry man, go back to sleep.”

“Nah,” Will says, sitting up fully and rubbing his face. “Kinda hungry. Wanna go make mac and cheese?” They’d be cheating on their diets and they both know it, but fuck it, they aren’t Jack. Will’s pretty sure they can break the rules for one box of mac and cheese. Or two boxes. Whatever. 

Derek releases a shuddering breath, and nods. As they slide from the bed, Will notices Derek palming a pill bottle from his toiletry bag. _Huh,_ he can’t help but think. _Guess Chow was right._

Down in the kitchen, Derek sits at one of the barstools at the counter while Will puts a pot on the stove and breaks out the goods from the pantry. It’s late now, and his family is definitely all in bed. They slept way more than Will figured they would. 

“So our sleep schedule is fucked for tomorrow, huh?” Derek says, tension in his voice though his expression is calm, looking out the small kitchen window and into the rain. 

“I guess,” Will shrugs. “We’re not going on the boat tomorrow anyways so it doesn’t actually matter that much.”

Derek’s head snaps up. “What do you mean?”

“I have a huge family and they’re covering for us tomorrow. Uncle Conor told us not to worry about coming in.”

Derek looks upset, and opens his mouth as if he’s going to protest. “Look,” Will says, stirring the pasta. “My family does a lot of lobster fishing. They know it’s dangerous. They take accidents seriously. And Uncle Conor kind of knows you aren’t the biggest fan of being out there anyways, so he figured maybe we’d like a day off. It’s fine, dude. Seriously.” He adds, when Derek doesn’t stop looking unhappy.

He strains the pasta and starts mixing in the toxic orange cheese powder.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Derek comments from behind the counter. 

“Fuck off, I’m doing it perfect. You’re just a heathen.”

Derek sniffs in mock offense, and smiles when Will shoots him a grin.

They plate their food and eat in silence, occasionally trading outraged looks as Will eats with a fork and Derek eats with a spoon. As usual, Will finishes first and watches out of the corner of his eye as Derek’s eating slows and he starts pushing around the noodles in his bowl. He looks nervous. 

“Do you, uh. Wanna talk about it?” Will asks, carefully avoiding Derek’s eyes. There’s silence. He can still hear the rain on the roof, and the patter of it in the gutter that leads out near the back door. He should really get around to moving it – every time there’s a storm the concrete stones in front of the back door get flooded and it’s a pain to leave the next day. Plus it drowns all the grass. 

“C texted,” Derek says at last. “He told me he… he mentioned my anxiety.” 

Will nods, and clears his throat. “Yeah. He mentioned it.” 

Derek places the little orange bottle on the counter in front of him. Neither of them say anything for a few long moments, and then Derek leans in so the palms of his hands are pressing against his eyes again, elbows on the table. “Sorry,” he says, and it comes out muffled. 

“Derek, it’s fine. I don’t… I don’t get _why_ you never mentioned it before. It’s not like I would have judged you, man. But it’s fine. It’s not like you _owe_ me that… and as long as it’s, uh… helpful, I guess?” Will is painfully aware of how awkward he’s being, trying to temper his frustration with reason. Derek snorts and removes his face from his hands though, so he counts it as a win. 

Will watches Derek uncap the bottle, shake out one pill, and swallow it with a mouthful of water. Quick and easy. Practiced in a way Will is unfamiliar with. He hates swallowing things – and then he cuts himself off, overly aware of the way Derek’s throat moves as he swallows another mouthful of water, and he stares at the ceiling instead until his thoughts are back under control.

He’s about to suggest going back upstairs when Derek sighs. “Sometimes,” he says, “sometimes I have a hard time keeping it together. And I get it, it’s not like I had the same… the same struggle you did with, with all this. Samwell and hockey and scholarships and things. But there was still _stuff_ , you know? And I couldn’t always… just _take it_ , you know? It got too much sometimes.” He’s swallowing hard, and Will’s never actually seen him cry, only ever seen the after-math, but his eyes are unusually bright right now and he doesn’t think he could honestly handle seeing Derek cry without doing something stupid like… like trying to hold him, or, or… 

“Derek, Derek, stop, c’mon man.” He scoots around in his seat, half standing, moving until he can have one arm on the back of Derek’s chair, pressing lightly against his back, and the other resting on the table in front of him, a bracket around one side. Not quite holding him, but still there. Arms technically around him. It has to be enough. “I never meant… okay that’s a lie, I know what I _said_ , back then. And the money thing, that’s true, but it’s just different, okay? I never… that doesn’t mean you don’t have problems too. All right? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like _that_.” 

Derek looks up at him, eyes full, and Will can feel his heart breaking. “Aw no, please don’t… can I just… look I know I’m not the cuddly type but can I just…” and he wraps his arms around Derek without waiting for an answer. Derek seems to shrink into himself for a moment, and then his arms slide around Will’s waist, and he buries his face in the front of Will’s shirt. He’s trembling a little, and Will works one hand up and places it gingerly on the back of his head, hesitant, worried it’ll be too much and Derek will push away. He doesn’t, and Will stands there like that for several long minutes with his eyes closed, unwilling to move. He doesn’t notice Jeremy pause at the door looking incredibly surprised, then back up the way he’d come and disappear again. He only notices Derek’s muscles unlock slowly, melt into his arms the way he had in sleep. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Will says, trying not to sound like he’s saying something else. “We can get up early and work on the truck. Pull it into the garage, since Jer’ll be gone by then.” Derek nods against his chest. Will pulls his arms back and quickly leaves their bowls and glasses in the sink. He gives Derek some space, leads them back up to their room. They get ready for bed again, slipping out to brush their teeth and use the bathroom in turns. Will’s already in bed when Derek gets back, and is lying in the middle of his bed, trying not to be hopeful. 

Derek gets the lights, climbs into his own bed, and there’s a pause that’s filled with things Will can feel himself not saying. Derek breaks it first. “Can I…” he says, and swallows audibly. “Xanax makes me feel kind of… is it okay if I…” he swallows again, and Will makes room. 

“C’mere.” 

Derek slips in, tucking himself back into Will’s side and pulling his quilt up over his shoulders. “Having contact helps.” He says, sounding a little embarrassed, head ducked down. “’S Grounding, you know?”

Will turns onto his side, arm under his pillow and the other slung over Derek’s waist. “Sure thing,” he says, trying valiantly to breathe even. “Whatever you need, bro.” Derek wiggles a little closer, and lets his eyes slip closed again. Their breathing matches up. Will can feel little puffs of air against his chest. _This can’t become a habit,_ Will thinks desperately. _It’s just for tonight. Just because he needs it._

He knows he’s lying to himself, but self-preservation seems more important than honesty right now. Because honestly? If this happens again, Will might not be able to take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the later-than-intended update! I had a horrible day yesterday and didn't have the emotional bandwidth to get this right. 
> 
> In which Will has no idea what to do with someone dissociating and tries his best, in which Jeremy officially knows something he shouldn't, and in which Derek gets the hugs he needs. Warning for use of anxiety meds. 
> 
> If you are with someone who is dissociating, it's usually best to ask them what they need! Not everyone likes to be touched, some people prefer calming things and some people prefer stimulating things. Asking in yes/no questions is usually your best bet too, since some people go totally non-verbal for a bit. I'm no professional, but always ask permission before you try to help, and talk to your doctor if you have any concerns! Stay safe kids.
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at sinbindos, which is where I'll be posting extras and also schedule alterations (aka me complaining about not being done on time). I hope you guys enjoy the chapter and as always, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Their unexpected day off is a blessing for Derek, who can’t help feeling slightly dazed from the late night Xanax usage. He can feel Will watching him a little more carefully than usual and it bugs him. But the haze of lethargy he tends to hold on to after taking one is blurring that, enough that waking up in Will’s arms, warm and comfortable and unafraid is something he lets himself luxuriate in for a few minutes before actually stirring. 

Still, he knows Will is hovering slightly as they go about their day. True to his word, he pulls the car in to the rickety-looking garage, a separate building from the house, and opens up the hood. He also takes the lesson a little slower than normal, which Derek definitely appreciates since he fumbles the tools more often than usual and breathes just a little easier when Will doesn’t say anything, just stoops to pick them up. It also gives him a good excuse for staring when Will bends far over the hood to check something.

Halfway through the day Rosie swings by, her shift at the bookstore finished earlier than usual. They chat about the family and the neighborhood, and she doesn’t mention Derek’s almost-accident yesterday. But she does notice him checking out her cousin, and raises her eyebrows the same way Will does when he’s calling out some bullshit. Derek averts his eyes to the ceiling and ignores her pointed glances. 

He mildly panics over it for a solid hour. He knows he’s not particularly subtle about his giant crush on his defensive half, but he’s _trying_ okay? And it’s hard to not look when Will is right there, muscles standing out in his shoulders and arms, sheen of sweat on the back of his neck, bracing himself over the hood of the _fucking car_ and okay so Derek prefers to bottom, loves it, but god if Will bent in half and stretched out isn’t tempting. 

And now Derek knows what Will’s arms around him feel like – tight across his chest in a protective hold and loose around his waist in sleep. Will grabs his hand and guides them somewhere in the car now and again, and he loses his train of thought for a few seconds at a time. He’s been careful about being shirtless in front of Will since they got back from the boat, since he has bruises around him from where Will’s arms dragged him back from the edge and dumped him on the floor, and he’s pretty sure Will would hover even more if he knew he’d hurt him in the process of helping. 

Eventually they head back towards the main house, and Rosie’s expression looks so irritated Derek is a little frightened. At least until they reach the porch and Rosie stops Will with a hand on his shoulder. “There’s a party Saturday night, down by the old spot. You guys should come.” Will grins, the first real smile he’s had all day, and nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Sounds fun. It’s been ages since I’ve seen the old crowd.”

“I’ll say,” Rosie scoffs, “You went off to the big fancy college and most of the gang haven’t seen you since high school or summer after your freshman year.” 

Will looks a little embarrassed, but shrugs out a defense. “Hockey takes priority.” 

Rosie narrows her eyes. “I’m aware. Brady’s gonna be there.” 

Derek doesn’t know who Brady is but Will stiffens noticeably, his shoulders going tight in a way Derek only usually sees when someone’s been checked on the ice and Will wasn’t there to do anything about it. Or when they lose a game. 

“So is Robbie,” she continues. “I told him you’d try to make an appearance. It’s his first beach party, you know.” Will nods, still stiff, and shoots an unreadable look at Derek. Derek just shrugs at him. Rosie lets out a sigh and continues into the house. “All the kids at school start being allowed to go to the beach bonfires at 16,” she explains. “Fires on the beach are technically illegal, but there’s one fire pit that’s been there for ages, and we can usually use it as long as nothing gets rowdy.”

There’s a small smirk on her face, and her eyes are bright with mischief when she turns to look at Derek. “We sneak in the beer.”

Around the dinner table a little later, with Rosie and Will on either side of Derek and Jeremy on Will’s right, Rosie brings up the party again. “Robbie’s first bonfire!” Mrs Poindexter says with a wistful smile. “I remember my first bonfire.” She nudges Will’s dad with a smile that grows when he looks embarrassed.

“They met at the bonfire,” Will rolls his eyes and serving himself more peas. “Did you know Brady is coming?” He asks then, with a pointed look over at Rosie. She flushes red and glares back. Will’s parents pause, and glance over at her. “Oh, sweetie,” his mom says. “I know it’s been a while, but is that okay?” 

“Its fine,” Rosie says, not managing to keep all the irritation from her voice. “Like you said, Auntie Barb, it’s been a while. I’m not mad about it anymore and neither is he.” Her tone is pointed.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” Mrs Poindexter nods, and then points her fork at Will. “You don’t go causing any trouble, do you hear me young man? It’s Robbie’s first bonfire, and he doesn’t want to see his cousin fighting his sister’s ex-boyfriend. And I don’t want to see you with another black eye.” 

Will’s ears are bright red, but he mutters a “yes, mom.” and eats his food in surly silence. Jeremy is looking between Will and Rosie curiously, the first sign of interest in the conversation he’s had all evening, and Derek is a little embarrassed when Jeremy catches him staring. 

.

After Rosie leaves and the kitchen has been tidied, Jeremy pokes his head into their room. “You guys good to get back on the boat tomorrow?” he asks, looking more at his brother than at Derek. “Supposed to be clear skies all day.”  
Will glances and Derek and when he nods, Will nods too. “Yeah, we’re good for it. Thanks, man.” Jeremy shrugs and ducks back through the door to his own room. 

“So,” Derek says, stretched out across his air mattress. “Bad ex?” 

He can’t see Will’s face as he rummages through one of his bags, but the back of his neck goes bright red. Derek whistles. “Musta been a really bad ex for you to hate him so much.” Still nothing. 

“It’s cool, bro,” Derek says. “So you hated your favorite cousin’s douchey ex-boyfriend. I hated my sister’s last boyfriend, so I’m not judging. Did he seriously give you a black eye, though?” 

Will look up at him then, blinking in surprise. “What? I never got into a fight with Brady.”

“Then why did your mom—”

“ _Oh,_ ” Will says, realization dawning and replacing the crazy red staining his cheeks. “No, I uh.” Will starts to look sheepish, and rubs the back of his neck. Derek checks him out before he can stop himself, and Will’s flush comes back full force. Derek smirks, hoping to pass it off as intentionally trying to get a rise of out him, and props himself up on his elbows. “Fuck off, Nurse,” Will huffs. “I got into a few fights in high school, okay? I never got into it with – with Brady. We just. Aren’t friends.” 

“Because he broke your cousin’s heart?” Will looks even more embarrassed than before.

“No. Well. Yes. Kind of? I dunno, man. It’s complicated.” 

Derek decides to let it go. Will seems uncomfortable as is. “So when you guys say beach bonfire, do you mean like. Some dude is gonna break out the guitar and play Wonderwall or some shit?” To his surprise, Will doesn’t seem less uncomfortable, and doesn’t laugh. He cringes. 

“ _No shit,_ ” Derek whispers, then sits up full and grasps Will by both shoulders. “Are you telling me _you were that guy?_ ”

“Fuck you, fuck off, _no_ Derek I was _not_ that guy.” 

“You were. You _totally_ were. Oh my god this is the greatest day of my life. I didn’t even know you could _play_ the guitar!” 

Will just groans and yanks himself out of Derek’s grip. “Rosie’s dad taught me, okay? It’s not like I busted it out at all the bonfires. I just played a bit when people asked me to.”

There’s a pause, and then Will says quietly, “Actually, it was Jeremy who played back when he still came to that sort of thing.” 

Derek blinks. “Jeremy?”

“Yep.”

“Like, your quiet, snickering brother Jeremy?”

“Yep.”

“The guy who I have had all of two conversations with, one about football – which I know almost nothing about by the way, thanks for preparing me for that – and one about cars? Which reminds me that I also didn’t know anything about that either until a few weeks ago. What is with you Poindexters and finding me useless?” 

Will seems to have relaxed a bit, and he gets up off the floor. “Yes, Jeremy, clone of my dad and just as un-talkative. He’s actually pretty good,” Will admits. “Better’n I am, that’s for sure.”

“Huh.”

Derek lies back and thinks about this for a moment. Will grabs his towel and toiletry kit. “Anyway, one day he just stopped coming to bonfires and I guess people just started asking me to play instead. So I had to learn. I’m going to take a shower, we have to be up early again.”

“Sure thing,” Derek yawns, and lets his eyes close with the door. 

He hears the faucet run first, and turns his head to look out Will’s window at the evening sky. This, however, brings his face in close proximity to Will’s bed, and he can smell Will on the sheets. He inhales, eyes slipping closed again as the feeling of comfort settles down on him like a blanket. Derek reaches out a hand to drag Will’s pillow closer, and lets the other fall low on his stomach. He doesn’t know what it is, but he feels good here. Normally after something like yesterday he’d have spent the day in bed, eating handfuls of small bland things and dozing. Something about Maine makes him feel unusually strong. Like he’s safe. 

Even the sound of the ocean, faintly audible through the house given their proximity to the shore, doesn’t spark a shred of discomfort. Derek likes the sound of the ocean, always did, but in a way that seemed more fascinated than pleasurable. He’s not like Will, who looks as easy on water as he does on ice. He doesn’t turn to the scent of the ocean like a dog smelling its master. Derek sighs and runs his hand over his own hipbone, scratching idly at his treasure trail as he passes it. The sound of the shower turns on. 

Suddenly, all Derek can think about is Will, who is standing naked not 10 feet from where he’s lying. There’s a wall in between them, but he’s seen Will naked in the shower before and not for the first time his brain lingers on the details his eyes are not allowed to in real life. 

Will tends to take long showers at night, Derek knows from countless roadies and sharing a room last year. Long, hot showers that leave the mirror fogged up. It works for Derek, who slips in after him and thinks of him as he stands under the still-hot spray, feeling it ratchet up his own temperature as his hands slick over himself. 

Now he’s lying on his back in Will’s room, Will’s pillow pressed to his face, and he can smell him everywhere. He can almost feel his arms where they were this morning, arm slung over his waist, wrist balancing on his hip and thick, strong fingers draping down his side. Derek swallows. If he tries hard enough, he can almost feel those fingers tracing the line across his hips the way his are now. He imagines his hand is Will’s, and dips his fingers just past the waistband of his jeans, teasing. His chest feels tight, the sound of the shower is still going, and Derek should not be doing this in Will’s parents’ house in his childhood bedroom. The shower is one thing. He’s done this a handful of times in the bathroom since he arrived – and okay, he’s a guy with an active sex drive and he wants his roommate. Sue him, he _wants._ But he hasn’t done this in _Will’s bedroom_ before. 

His exhales with a shudder, fingers tracing the line of his cock through his pants, and undoes the zipper, unable to stand it anymore. Will might take long showers, but not long enough for him to take his sweet time, if he really is going to do this. The cool air feels good against his freed erection, and he curls one hand over the head, twisting a little, imagining Will’s calluses catching on the soft skin there. 

He presses his hips up, biting down on the moan he can feel at the back of his throat, swallowing back against it. Will’s hands on him, one hand pressing into his hips, holding his thigh tightly, the other tugging him with long, slow strokes. Derek shudders again at the thought of Will’s voice in his ear, whispering against his neck, pressing kisses there. He wonders what would happen if Will walked in on him like this? Would he turn red, flush right down his chest to his own half-hard cock? Would he join him? Derek thrusts up into his own hand, once, twice, and comes messily, all over himself, just as the shower turns off. He sits up immediately, stretching to grab the tissue box on the tiny table at the head of their beds, and cleans up. He tosses them out, tucks himself away, and lies face down on his air mattress, trying to calm his breathing. Will _wouldn't_ join him, because Will is _straight_ and _not interested_ , Derek reminds himself firmly. Fine for a fantasy, nothing more.

By the time Will walks in, looking warm and soft and clean in nothing but a towel, Derek has resumed looking chill, and Will lets him slip out to shower as well. He mercifully does not comment on his pillow in Derek’s bed. As Derek brushes his teeth and scrubs down, he lets his mind drift, thinking of Will in bed – not waiting for him, not really, but waiting for him to be there none the less. It helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update guys, and sorry that this is a short one!
> 
> Ft. the first of the slightly more smutty than usual scenes. I had more stuff planned for this chapter, but I had some Bad Life Things this week and didn't want to write about two people pining after each other. So I didn't really get around to working them in. Hopefully next time! 
> 
> oh and a special shout-out to all of you who sent me nice messages, I really appreciated it this weekend :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw for pressuring a closeted character to come out. Also, for sex.

_Not again,_ is the first thought in Will’s head when he wakes up early on Saturday morning. There’s no air conditioning and that’s usually a pain in the ass, but he’s _unusually_ hot. And Will has a good idea why. Derek is pressed up all along his left side, his breath is humid in the hollow of Will’s throat, his lips are dry pressing lightly against his collar, and Will is unmistakably hard. Derek’s hand is resting against his ribs, slipped under his shirt in the night. Will can feel each finger on his skin like a brand. 

There are still a few minutes before the alarm goes off, and Will is scrambling to think of some way to get out of this position without waking the too-warm, sleepy lump that is his best friend. He slides to the right, pressed right up against the wall, and tries to sit up slowly while placing Derek’s arm on the bed instead of on his chest. 

Will prides himself on having fairly good depth perception – he has to have, for hockey. But it does him no favors as he smacks his head hard against the window ledge and lets out a pained noise that startles Derek into consciousness.

“Mmpf. Will?” Derek asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah, hi. _Ow,_ Jesus.” Will tucks his legs up and pulls his twisted sheet up to cover his lap, hoping desperately that Derek won’t notice. 

“You okay?”

“Yep. Bashed my head on the window. All good.” 

Derek squints at him, clears his throat, and turns his face slightly so that it’s pressed into the mattress. “You might wanna go take care of that, brah.” Will can feel his face burning and wishes, as he often does, that he could just get set on fire and stop existing. He had to notice. Fuck. 

“Yep, yeah, gonna go pee.” Will flees as fast as he can, takes care of that, and is left with the simmering, wanting itch he has long since become accustomed to. 

When he gets back to their room, Derek is still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “C’mon, up,” Will says, tugging his shirt up over his head and throwing it into their now-totally-mixed laundry bag. “Bonfire’s tonight. Gotta get everything together.” 

He tries not to look over as Derek peels out of his clothes, but he notices discoloration on Derek’s normally perfect, unblemished skin. “Woah, dude, what—” he sucks in a breath, remembering the way air had huffed out of Derek’s mouth when he hit the deck hard on Monday. 

“Did I do that?” 

Derek looks a little embarrassed. “It’s fine, brah. I fell at a weird angle, not your fault.”

“Like hell! That looks awful, Derek, why didn’t you say anything?”

“What, like that would have helped?”

“I—” Will knows he has a point, but he scowls anyways. “Should have been more careful, anyways.” Derek’s expression is one Will doesn’t see very often, a burning intensity. “Yeah,” he says, looking at Will full on in the face as he slides his arms through the holes of his sleeveless shirt. “I expect better treatment when having my ass saved. Remember for next time.” 

Will stares at him for a second, surprised, and then feels himself soften before he can control it. He suddenly remembers his second year, when Derek got sick and didn’t call anyone to help him. He remembers the look on Derek’s face Monday night when Will reassured him, wanted him to know so badly that he wasn’t judging him, _God._ When he pulled him into his arms. “No, I know, I get it. I just. Other guys usually put the bruises on you, not me.” 

Derek pulls the shirt up over his head and just like that, the bruises are gone. “Yeah, well,” he says, and then shoots Will a playful grin. “Not gonna lie? Sometimes I’m kind of into bruises.” 

Will’s not sure what his face is doing, but Derek laughs loudly and flicks his ear as he slides out the door to the bathroom. 

 

.

 

The Saturday Poindexter Cookout ends with its usual comfortable cheer, families breaking off into smaller units and loading little ones into cars. Will watches fondly as Auntie Sarah tries to pluck a wailing Lily from Derek’s arms. She’s got one tiny fist buried in his curls, and the other with a death grip on his ear, and Derek is smiling sheepishly at Will’s Aunt. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes for the seventh time in a row. “C’mon, Lily, let go for your mom. I’ll see you soon, ah-ow j—aaah that hurts.” Will snickers, Derek’s attempt to reign in his language failing spectacularly in the face of a two year old with stronger chubby baby fingers than he predicted, clearly. 

Finally, Auntie Sarah maneuvers Lily onto her hip and gives Derek a brief, one-armed hug. “See you next week,” she says, then looks over at Will and shoots him a wink. “Bye Will, play nice.” Will sputters and looks helplessly at Rosie, who is laughing at him.

“I always play nice!” 

“Brah, the only people you know how to play nice with are your littlest cousins,” Derek says, grinning at him. “And Bits. But everyone has to play nice with Bits, or he’ll cut off our pie supply.” 

“That or his NHL boyfriend will beat us up,” Will grumbles, leading them around the house and back out to the truck.  
Rosie perks up. “One of your friends is dating an NHL player? Billy, _who?_ ” 

Will freezes, and glances over at Derek. “Uh, no one you know. Please keep that quiet? I don’t want the whole family to know, and they’re not really out out yet.” Rosie shoots him a look. 

“Don’t be stupid, Billy.” She sounded offended, and Will cringes, feeling guilty. He _knows_ she wouldn’t. 

Derek glances back and forth between them, looking more than a little surprised. “Bits was our captain last year,” he offers. “He’s wicked fast, yo.” 

Will rolls his eyes but doesn’t lose the apologetic tone to his words. “Yeah, he’s quick all right. Ro, you riding with us?” 

Rosie opts to go home with her parents first so she can drive over with Robbie later, so Will and Derek hop into the truck and head into town to pick up supplies. Will can feel Derek’s eyes on him as they jump from store to store, picking up marshmallows and batteries and other little things they might need. 

“So listen,” Derek says at last as Will is looking at the limited selection of beer in the grocery store. “I know you said your family is a little more homophobic than our Samwell fam, so correct me if I’m wrong here but Rosie didn’t seem all that judgmental about Bitty?” It comes out sounding like a question, and Will doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s wondering. 

“Some of them are good about that sort of thing,” he says, sounding tired even to his own ears. “Not all of them are, though. You’ve seen my dad and Jeremy. Or any of my uncles. It’s not that they aren’t good guys, good people. They _are._ They’re great. They just… don’t get it. They’re old fashioned. They don’t think their way of seeing things is bad or wrong, and they don’t get _why_ people are gay. Or whatever. It’s not like they’d disown – or like, it’s not that they _hate_ the… the gay community, I guess. They just don’t understand it. They make jokes about it. It’s not common here. They’ll always be uncomfortable with it.” 

“But Rosie…”

“Rosie’s different,” Will says, shaking his head. “Rosie’s had exposure our parents didn’t.” Will automatically bites his lip, and Derek’s eyebrows go up. 

“So there are people who are some degree of _out_ up here? Didn’t expect that.” 

Will frowns at him. “No, but they do _exist_ out here. Don’t be dumb.” 

Derek shrugs, seemingly unaware of Will’s tense jaw and shifting gaze, watching to make sure no one can overhear them. 

They grab a couple sixes of beer and pay, then load up the car. “No kegs,” Will says with a shrug when Derek asks about the beer. “No bringing too much alcohol. They don’t want the older kids sharing much, you know?” 

Next they swing back around to Will’s place, grabbing a couple thick woolen blankets and taking a minute for Will to spray bug spray liberally all over them both for the second time that day. It’s getting dark by the time they drive over to the spot, and despite the tense, worried feeling in his gut, Will is excited to see some of the old crowd. 

The fire is already going by the time they arrive, Rosie’s standing on the left with Robbie at her side, his hands deep in the pockets of his light jacket. 

The truck is parked a little ways away, and Will whistles with his fingers to his mouth. A few people standing around turn to look, and laugh when they spot him coming out of the woods. “Will!” One girl waves, blonde hair up in a ponytail with the end stuck inside her khaki-colored jacket. Will grins at her. 

“Hey Mer,” he says, slinging an arm over her shoulder as they get closer. “Long time no see.” 

“Yeah, asshole, thanks for visiting. Or _calling._ ” She says, giving him a mock pout that dissolves into laughter when he pulls at her ponytail. He can see Derek’s flabbergasted expression from the corner of his eye, and gestures to him. “Guys this is Derek, Derek these are the losers I hung out with in high school.” 

A few of them look surprised, glancing at Derek in a way that makes Will vaguely uncomfortable, and he takes his arm back from Mer’s shoulder to pull Derek into a headlock instead. “This guy’s my defensive half at Samwell,” he says, snickering when Derek pushes him away.

“The better half,” he quips, glancing around and smiling in the lazy, unaffected way Derek usually has. 

Will goes around and introduces everyone briefly by name, and then moves to sit on one of the logs set up like benches around the edge of the fire pit. “Who else is coming?” he asks. Iain rattles off a couple handfuls of names. His corn-blonde hair the same as it was when they played together, but shorter now and well-kept. Everyone seems older now, which shouldn’t surprise Will, but it does. More people drift in and after an hour of sitting around, the place is buzzing with the town’s youth.

Will is having a good time, with Derek sitting next to him and so many of his old friends telling him what they’ve been up to. He takes his time skewering a marshmallow on a stick and showing off his roasting skills to Derek with an easy grin, feeling warm and comfortable, and laughing when Derek sets his on fire.

There’s a lot of talking and laughing, and he almost doesn’t notice when someone sits down on his right, close enough that their knees knock against each other, until he looks up. Then all he can see is green eyes and soft, messy brown hair and a light dusting of freckles – nothing like Will has, not a sea of them. He hears Derek ask him a question, but doesn’t respond.

“Hey, Will.” Brady says, his voice quiet. He smiles a little, enough to seem bashful, and Will is unconvinced. 

“Brady. Hi.” He blinks, and blinks again, and glances over to see Rosie staring at him intently from the other side of the fire. He looks back at Brady. 

“Heard you were coming tonight,” Brady says, balancing his elbows on his knees and letting his shoulder blades arch in. Will can remember the way it felt to kiss down his spine, hands smoothing down those shoulder blades with the nervous newness of a first relationship. He swallows. Brady looks good – older, less angry, the same way Will feels less angry after a few years away. He nods.

“Yeah. You know, figured I’d stop in. Catch up.” 

“I’m glad,” Brady says. 

“Yo, Will,” he hears Derek drawl from over his shoulder. He feels suddenly like he’s been pushed, like the two different _Wills_ he was and is are competing for attention. He turns back to Derek, trying to ground himself. “Uh, Derek this is Brady. Brady, this is Derek. He’s my, uh. My defensive partner at Samwell.”

“Lucky you,” Brady says, nodding at Derek with a slight grin. Will can’t read the expression on Derek’s face, but it does something complicated before turning lazy again. “I guess,” he says, slugging Will lightly on the shoulder. “Unlucky Will though, he’s gotta keep me in line all the time.”

Brady raises his eyebrows but chuckles anyways. “Will is good at being responsible. Sometimes too responsible, if you know what I mean.”

Derek laughs, the sound is a little off in Will’s ears but not enough that anyone else would notice, probably. “Yeah, I know. He’s my drunk whisperer too, so he gets to deal with me at my worst.” The words are fond, and Will looks up at him in surprise. Brady knocks their knees together again and Will feels like pendulum, swinging his attention back and forth. 

“You weren’t around much last summer, or the summer before,” Brady says lightly, and Will knows he’s looking for an answer. He gives him a one-shouldered shrug. “I was busy. Uncle Conor needed a lot of help, and I was saving up. College is expensive.”  
“I thought you got a full ride,” Brady says, and Will nods. “Yeah but that doesn’t cover everything. Housing, textbooks, food… gotta pay for it somehow.” 

Brady exhales and looks down at his hands. “I guess I missed you,” he says, and Will is uncomfortably aware of Derek sitting so close to him. Will doesn’t say anything back, just twists his fingers nervously. Brady glances around at the people talking, and seems to remember where he is. “We should talk, man. It’s been a few years. I’d like to catch up.”

Brady is looking at him intently now, trying to say something Will doesn’t understand, and his eyes are a pretty shade of green – though not as pretty as Derek’s, some part of his brain reminds him helpfully. “Let’s go for a walk,” Brady suggests, and Will doesn’t really want to go but also doesn’t want to cause a fuss. Any more of a fuss than is probably already being made, anyways. “…Yeah, all right. Sure.” Will manages to stutter out, and then stands. 

Brady follows him up, and there is still that two inch difference in height between them that used to drive Brady crazy. “I’ll be right back,” Will says to Derek, eyes on Brady’s back as he follows him out across the sand. 

Brady leads them away from the group, carefully putting two feet of space between them as they wander back towards the trees. Will is grateful. There’s less chance of their voices carrying if they aren’t on the beach, and whatever Brady has to say to him he isn’t sure he wants anyone to know about it. Even Rosie. Especially Derek. And definitely, _definitely_ not Robbie. Actually, Will thinks, literally anyone would be a terrible idea, given how information spreads in this damn town. It’s a bitter thought – one of the first bitter thoughts Will has had about being back all summer long. 

Eventually, Brady leans up against a tree and turns so he can see Will approach. “I’m not gonna bite, you know.” He says mildly. Will gives him a pointed look, and he laughs. “Okay, you _know_ what I mean, and it wasn’t that.” But his gaze becomes a little speculative, and it makes Will squirm. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Will asks. 

Brady tips his head back against the tree, exposing the line of his neck. “I missed you,” he says simply, as if that isn’t a big deal and shouldn’t be a surprise to Will. It is. 

“Brady…”

“I didn’t know you had a new boyfriend.” He interrupts, “I swear I’m not gonna make a move on you if you’re spoken for.”  
“Derek’s… he’s not, we’re not dating.” Will’s mouth snaps shut, and he takes a deep breath in. He’s not sure what he wants right now, with a couple beers in his system and the feeling of green eyes on him everywhere. Brady has him pinned with his gaze. 

“Well, he didn’t look too happy to meet me,” he says. Will furrows his brow. 

“He’s heard a bit about you.”

“He knows we dated?”

“Not… not quite. He doesn’t know about… about me.”

Brady’s eyebrows lift, and for a second he looks frustrated. “You left us to go be out and open somewhere else, since you couldn’t _stand_ to be that here, with me, with your _family,_ and you haven’t told your best friends? I thought your fancy school was _different._ ” Will swears under his breath. 

“I’m not not out,” he tries. “It’s not like I haven’t been. Dating or…”

“You mean you’ve been hooking up with people but not telling anyone.” Brady’s tone is bitter, and Will feels a little ashamed, which he hardly thinks is fair. 

“It’s none of your business anymore, Brady.” Will turns a little, so he isn’t looking Brady head on anymore. Instead, he looks off into the trees, into the dark. He doesn’t care how harsh his tone is right now, he shouldn’t feel guilty for this.

“Yeah,” Brady says, and his tone is soft again, conciliatory. “I know that. Can you blame me for wishing it was?” Will blinks at him, surprised again. _He keeps coming back to that,_ the not-overwhelmed part of Will’s brain is saying. _He keeps bringing this up._

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Will says. “I don’t know why I’m even here right now.”

Brady takes a careful step forward, and then another. He puts one hand on the front of Will’s jacket, closes his hand around the material, and tugs lightly. He steps back, dragging but not-quite-dragging Will with him, back toward the tree. 

He pulls him closer, and Will can smell his body wash, the same as it always was. They’re close, too close, and Will isn’t sure how he feels about this. He knows this is a bad idea, he knows this won’t go anywhere, _can’t_ go anywhere. What Brady wants from him, that’s not something Will can give. Will meets Brady’s eyes, dark, and thinks about what Derek’s eyes might look like instead. He pulls back.

“Brady, I can’t…” 

Brady’s mouth curls at one corner, a slight mocking smile that reminds Will fiercely of high school – sneaking around together, letting Rosie cover for them, pulling Brady up onto the roof at night to make out, heated touches and quiet gasps in the air. 

“Come on, Will,” Brady says, quiet, soft, tempting. “It’s not like there’s anyone else right now. You said so yourself. And I missed you. _Still_ miss you.” One of his hands is at Will’s hip, thumb brushing up slightly, just enough to feel a bit of skin under his shirt. The other is still gripping the front of his jacket, a light pressure Will is finding it harder and harder to ignore. 

Derek doesn’t want him anyways, and the frustration of sleeping just two feet away from him for the last few weeks has been bad. The frustration of waking up touching, wrapped so close together, not like lovers but like _hurt_ and _comfort_ and those roles feeling so similar that Will can’t tell which part he’s playing any more, is even worse. And now Brady’s chest is just brushing against his, and his head is tilted back to look up at Will. His lips are parted and his eyes are dark, the picture of a bad idea that Will is too weak to resist right now. He grips Brady’s wrist where it’s holding his jacket, and he leans closer, closer. 

Their lips touch, and Brady’s head tilts, practiced like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Because they _have_ done this a hundred times before, and suddenly hands are in hair and hips slot against each other and someone gasps, and he can smell Brady all around him. His eyes are shut tight and he can’t help but think of green eyes – not bright like Brady’s, but mossy and warm – and Will throws himself deeper into the kiss, wanting to forget, pressing Brady up against the tree. 

He doesn’t want to be kissing Brady, he wants to be kissing Derek, but he’ll settle for this, settle for feeling any kind of wanted right now. His hands slip up Brady’s shirt, and _oh, that,_ he would like more of the feel of skin against his, warm under his palms. Brady’s hands are pulling at his jacket and he doesn’t stop kissing him, but moves back enough to pull it off his shoulders and drop it to the ground. 

Brady kisses like he always does, like he’s on the edge of laughing, waiting for something funny, never interested in the battle for dominance Will always seems to be fighting for, but side-stepping it completely, disarming him with teeth and tongue. Brady tugs him by his shirt, pulls him around so Will’s back is against the tree now and Brady’s hands are at his belt, fumbling in the dark like teenagers again. 

Will lets him, head thrown back and breathing heavy as Brady sucks a mark at his collar – careful, as usual, to be low enough that one of Will’s flannels will cover it. He whimpers, and Brady presses harder against him. Will can feel him pressing into his hip, eager and wanting, and then Brady drops to his knees right there in the dirt, hidden by trees with the sound of laughter in the distance. 

Will recognizes that he shouldn’t find it funny that Brady gives head the same way he used to – purposeful and direct – but he kind of does, and stifles a small laugh behind a moan as Brady shows off something that _has_ changed: his ability to swallow much more of Will down that he is used to. 

Will places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly as Brady works him over and gasping sharply into the night. After a couple minutes of Brady laving his tongue at Will’s head and swallowing down around him, Will taps him on the shoulder and Brady moves back a little, enough that Brady can take the mouthful Will spills into him a moment later. He stumbles to his feet, leaning over to spit into the bushes, and then he’s back on Will, directing his hand to the waistband of his jeans.

It doesn’t take long, just a few short minutes of Will’s hand wrapped around Brady, of kissing him through it. When they’re finished, Brady pulls a moist towelette from the pocket of his discarded jacket, and opens it for Will. 

“You still carry these around?” Will says, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I was hoping for a good night,” Brady shrugs. “It was a good call.”

Will presses his lips together but nods anyways. Already he’s starting to regret doing this. It felt good, sure. It had been a long time since someone else got him off, definitely. But Will feels slightly sick, wondering why he did that in the first place. 

“Let me know when you’re thinking of coming out,” Brady says, running a hand through his hair and smoothing down the lines of his shirt. “I’m around.” There’s an implication behind his words that makes Will deeply uncomfortable. 

“Brady, I’m not… I don’t plan on coming out to my family any time soon. You _know_ that.” He can’t eliminate the frustration in his voice. 

Brady just shrugs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “They’ll find out eventually.”

Will’s stomach turns over. “That’s not… look, whether it’s true or not, that’s not your call to make.” 

“Don’t be a coward, it doesn’t suit you.”

Will’s gaze snaps up to see Brady rolling his eyes. “That’s not me being a _coward,_ Brady. It’s about what I’m comfortable with. And I’m not comfortable with this.”

Will turns and starts walking back to the beach, pulling the collar of his jacket up high to cover his neck. He feels exposed, nervous, flayed open. He reaches the group, still laughing and drinking, and looks around for Rosie. 

“Dude,” a voice says, quiet in his ear. Will jumps, but it’s just Derek, standing a foot behind him. “You reek of sex.” It’s dark, but with the light of the fire in front of them, Will knows Derek can see him flush red. There’s a furrow in Derek’s brow and something that looks like hurt in his eyes. It makes Will angry.

“So uh. Brady’s just an old friend, huh?” 

Will’s overwhelmed still, and tired, and can’t figure out what it is in Derek’s voice that has him on edge, but he replies anyways. “It’s none of your business.”

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up. “No, I guess not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Part of Will’s head thinks that it’s not supposed to mean _anything,_ that Derek isn’t Brady, wouldn’t pressure him to do something he wasn’t comfortable with, but he can’t help snapping right now.

“Nothing, brah. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You’re damn right I don’t.”

Derek looks at him for a moment, his eyes flickering back and forth between Will’s. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Nurse. Drop it.” Will says shortly, glaring into the fire pit. 

“You sure? Because you don’t normally freak out this hard about shit that doesn’t matter to you, and it’s kinda worrying me, brah.” 

“I said I’m fucking fine,” Will spits. He doesn’t know where this is coming from, but all of a sudden he’s 16 again, young and afraid and _angry_ and his first boyfriend – the first person other than Rosie to know about him – is telling him he’s being a coward.

“Jesus, Nurse, drop it.”

“Do you want me to—”

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Nurse, just leave me alone, okay?” 

Will scrubs a hand through his hair, hating himself a little for every choice he’s made in the last hour. He doesn’t want to know what face Derek’s making in the silence, but when he looks up, some hard mask of chill has descended on him and it makes Will’s chest ache. He needs to get out, needs to be somewhere he can get himself together. Somewhere away from Derek, and Brady, and his family. Somewhere he can’t be a jerk. 

“Ride back with Rosie whenever you want.” He says at last, turning and walking towards where they left the truck. _You’re not that angry kid anymore,_ he reminds himself as he walks. _You’re not that angry kid, and Derek isn’t Brady._

Will drives home, gets ready to sleep, and lies in bed for a few hours, restless but breathing evenly until most of his anger is gone. Derek doesn’t come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your patience! I'm sorry it took me so long to get this one up.
> 
> Obviously, I'm warning for pressuring a closeted character to come out. Gettin' into some of Will's problems here. Alternative chapter title: Will Makes Unusually Bad Choices. I apologize in advance for the next few chapters of Suffering.
> 
> come visit me at sinbindos on tumblr, where I post about my writing struggles, update schedule, and extras! Also, I do follow a lot of you back but with my main account, grimfacedgrad. So the love is mutual, guys, I swear <3


	7. Chapter 7

Derek feels a little like he’s been punched. He shouldn’t, because he wasn’t punched. Not physically anyways. But he stands there anyways feeling winded and surprised and _“Do whatever the fuck you want, Nurse, just leave me alone, okay?”_ is running through his head. Some detached part of his mind is rolling its eyes, knowing he’s starting to obsess a little over those words. But he can’t help it, and he almost doesn’t notice a small hand on his elbow until Rosie is there next to him, peering up at him with a concerned expression on her face.

“Derek? What did Will say to you?”

Derek blinks at her, opens his mouth and realizes he doesn’t know what to reply with – what’s _safe_ to reply with – so he closes it again. He frowns.

Whatever Rosie sees in his face makes her huff in frustration, and she drags him a few feet further from the crowd. “Did Will and Brady get into a fight?” She asks as soon as they’re out of hearing range. Derek shakes his head, watching her carefully for clues that she might know more about Will than he did up until now. Rosie just looks thoughtful.

“Did Will seem upset?”

Derek nods, and after another moment spent flickering her gaze between Derek’s eyes, her eyes go all huge for a split second the same way Will’s do when he’s found out something that’s about to piss him off and – yup, there it is, Rosie’s eyes narrow and in the dim light Derek can tell she’s flushing. “He _didn’t_ ,” she growls, sounding more pissed off than Derek’s ever heard her. “You’ve got to be _kidding_ me!” She crosses her arms across her chest and makes a derisive sound in the back of her throat. It reminds Derek sharply of Lardo when he and Will got into fights during their first year as frogs. Inexplicably, he feels a pang of loneliness, but Rosie is still talking so he tunes back in.

“Who am I kidding, of _course_ he hooked up with him. Wow, my cousin is a genius huh, _this_ is the way he chooses to come out to—”

Rosie cuts herself off and stares at Derek again, this time with alarm written all over her face. “Oh god,” she says, “You just found out.” It’s not technically a question, so Derek doesn’t say anything, but Rosie seems to take his silence as an answer anyways.

“Fuck,” she says prettily, wrinkling up her nose and sighing. “Well this is a mess. Did Will go home, then?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, and it comes out as a croak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, he uh. He told me to leave him alone, so I don’t really think I’m welcome back tonight.” Rosie frowns at him.

“He wouldn’t kick you out like that,” she says, unaware of the tiny jolt of panic running through Derek’s veins. “He’s a dick, but he’s not _that_ much of a dick. I’ll drop you home and you can just sneak into your room quietly. He’ll probably be asleep by now anyways,” she says with a snort. Derek knows exactly what she means – Will gets feisty and exasperated and will argue with Derek night and day, but tends to like to sleep off real anger or hurt. Derek knows from the way Will always went right to bed after bad roadies and had to be woken up the next morning by him and C on their way to practice.

“I don’t know,” Derek says doubtfully. “I don’t really want to infringe on his angry sleeping time. And… and he _did_ tell me to leave him alone. I can probably sleep on the couch or something, its chill.”

Rosie is shaking her head again before he’s even done speaking. “Come stay with me instead,” she says. “You’ll probably have to be stealthy because my dad wouldn’t love it if he realised you woke up in my bedroom, but it’s better than a couch. We have air mattresses.” The way she says it reminds Derek so much of his first night in Maine that he smiles a little, and shakes his head. “Nah, thanks though. I’m not going to be able to sleep much anyways, I’ll just keep you up.” Derek doesn’t want to admit that he can still feel his pulse is going strong and fast in his chest, uncomfortably enough that he’s trying to measure his breaths again, match them up to Rosie’s and hoping she doesn’t notice.

She looks at him for a second with the same appraising look she’d had earlier, and then shrugs. “We’ll see. Come on, let’s get Robbie, I’m over this party.”

They collect Robbie from the other side of the fire pit, where he’s talking to two of his classmates animatedly about something involving football season. He complains at Rosie all the way to the car until she threatens to tell their parents about the two beers he had, and then just mutters quietly under his breath as they drive back towards their street.  
“Hey what happened to Billy?” Robbie finally thinks to ask as they pull into their driveway.

“Went home early,” Rosie says, and Derek cuts in to save her from having to lie. “Will sucks at parties. Even at school.” He shoots Robbie what he hopes is an easy grin as he hops out of the car and heads across the walkway.

“Robbie, wait,” Rosie says as she locks up behind them. “I’m going to walk Derek back to Billy’s so we can hang on the roof. I’ll probably sleep there.”

Robbie looks curiously between the two of them and then groans. “You guys aren’t going to start dating, are you? Because that’s what happened with Brady and now no one can even say his _name_ without everything getting weird. It’s shitty.”

“Language,” Rosie reprimands automatically, sounding more like habit than real enforcement. Robbie just rolls his eyes and turns back to their front door. “Whatever. I’ll let mom and dad know.”

“Thanks, Robbie. You’re the best,” she says, reaching out to ruffle his hair before she and Derek head to the curb and up the road.

They walk in silence for a couple minutes before Rosie speaks up again. “So. Now you know,” she says. It’s very dark without a fire to cast shadows, and Derek’s unreasonably grateful that she can’t see his face. “Now I know.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“I don’t know,” Rosie admits. “I just feel like one of us is supposed to say something about that.”

Derek shrugs, his pulse picking up again as they get closer to Will’s house. “Nah. It’s not my business who he likes. I uh. Wish he’d told me earlier, maybe I would have been less of a dick about the whole _republican_ thing. But it’s whatever, you know? His life, his choices.”

Rosie doesn’t say anything, continues to watch where she’s walking as they head up the drive. “Let’s go sit in the back of Billy’s truck. I feel like this isn’t a talk we should have where Auntie Barb or Uncle Jon or Jeremy can hear us.”

She leads the way towards the garage where Will’s truck currently sits, and they clamber inside. Will left the thick woolen blankets they’d brought in the back, so they bundle those up and lean against them.

“I know how you feel about him,” Rosie says as soon as they’re settled, and Derek lets out a choking noise before he can stop himself. She winces a little, but laughs anyways.

“I don’t know–”

“Please can _someone_ not pretend I’m an idiot and just run with this line of questioning?” Derek throws his hands up. “Okay, all right, fine. I know I’m not subtle.”

“Damn right you’re not.” She says, lifting her eyebrows and jerking her chin meaningfully at the front of the truck. “I’m surprised Will hasn’t noticed your blatant staring yet.” Derek gives her an uncomfortable look, and she just rolls her eyes.

“Oh come on,” she says. “It’s not that bad.”

“How is it not that bad? I have a giant, unrelenting crush on your cousin. It’s been months. I’m supposed to be fed up of him, and I just want to hug the shit out of him _more_.” Rosie starts laughing. 

“Hey, I do not appreciate the attitude. This is the height of uncool.” Derek grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring at his shoes. A little overdramatic, but he likes it. Makes it seem less serious, like this is just a little crush as opposed to a huge L-word related mess of feelings that make Derek want to curl up under several heavy blankets.

“Shut up, _you’re_ the height of uncool,” Rosie snickers, not even trying to control herself. “Will’s not really the hugging type, you know? Having a hard time picturing him _snuggling_.”

“Really?”

“You… sound too surprised by that. You _know_ Will! He is _not_ a cuddler.”

Derek thinks about the week full of casual touches they’ve been sharing. Will had slept with his arms slung around Derek once on purpose, and then several more times by accident. He’d hugged him in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Rosie wasn’t _wrong_ , Will tended to be a prickly cactus, but he wasn’t _not_ a hugger either.

“I mean,” Derek said, cringing slightly at both himself and the suspicious look Rosie is giving him. “He’s pretty huggy with Lily.” It sounds weak even to his own ears.

“She’s a baby. Everyone is huggy with babies. And Lily likes him best so it’s not like he can just ignore her.”

“I’ll have you know I replaced Will as favorite this week. Lily likes me best now.”

Rosie just snorts, then shifts so she’s lying down, stretched out across the bed of the truck instead. In the light of the torch lamp they’d flickered on, Derek can see her eyes are closed. “My point is that Will isn’t comfortable with displays of affection. And you still want to snuggle.”

“I’m a masochist,” Derek says with a shrug, moving to lie down beside her. “And I’m a serial snuggler.”

There are a few minutes of silence, and Derek has successfully synched up his breathing to hers. It’s undeniably calming, but less comfortable than sharing breaths with Will. Probably because he’s closer to Derek’s size, he thinks, and then feels his face heating at the implication.

“So,” Rosie says at last, “why don’t you just ask him out?”

Derek is so startled he whips his head to look at her incredulously. “Are you kidding?” He asks. Rosie raises her eyebrows, eyes still closed. “Nope. If you like him so much, you should ask him out. Or just to make out. See how that goes first.”

Derek barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Uh, yeah, because that’s not suspicious at all. Hey Will, I just found out you bat for the other team – or maybe both teams, I wasn’t quite sure of the details – but would you make out with me to see how that goes?”

“Well it sounds bad when you say it like _that_ ,” Rosie argues.

“It sound awful when I say it like that. Dude didn’t come out to me of his own free will, he basically outed himself by smelling like sex and looking like his neck had been attacked by an animal. And you want his best friend, who has been sex-deprived for weeks - sorry not sorry for the overshare - to ask him to hop to it? It sounds like I’m just looking to get off.” Which _would_ be nice, but Derek isn’t going to say that to Will’s cousin. There are such things as boundaries.

“…though that wouldn’t be a bad thing, I’m sure.” Rosie says it anyways, and Derek covers his face with his hands. “Could you _not_ ,” he moans. _Besides,_ he thinks to himself, _I heard him say he’s not interested in anyone right now once already. No need to let him see that reaction._

After Rosie stops laughing at him, there’s another break in the conversation, and with their eyes closed Derek can feel himself starting to drift a little. He’s exhausted, worn out from the day. Rosie is being good about the whole _crushing on Will_ thing, but Derek is still uncomfortable. Sounding like a sexually frustrated twenty-something is bad enough. But he heard what Brady said to Will, and he knows Will’s not interested in Derek that way.

He hadn’t meant to walk in on them getting down but he had wanted to check on Will, who’d seemed out of it in a way Derek was unused to. But the first thing he’d heard was Brady, who was apparently Will’s _ex_ , what the fuck, saying “It’s not like there’s anyone else right now,” and even though Derek knew it already, knew Will wasn’t interested, that still kind of stung. He had stayed long enough to watch Will shove Brady up against the tree and kiss him fiercely, unsurprising strength showing in the way his hands trailed up Brady’s torso. There had been a gasp, one was pretty sure hadn’t come from him, and then Derek had backed up and wandered far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

Derek had sat at the base of a tree and counted his breaths, forcing them out from where they’d started to go uneven under the weight of the unexpected ache in Derek’s chest. He was surprised to see Will with Brady. He was obviously surprised because of Will. But he was hurt because he was jealous – jealous of Brady, who got to have Will before and now, too. Jealous of Will, who wasn’t holding out for anyone he couldn’t have. He was jealous because Matt had never been so careful with him the way Will had been this week. Will, who knew how strong Derek was – taking checks on the ice and hitting back, taking hard losses with a grim face – and still treated him gently when he thought he needed it. He hated it all.

Between one thought and the next, Derek drifted into a restless sleep.

.

 

He wakes up to a loud crash that has him startling sharply into awareness. It was dim out, still early - maybe a little after dawn - and Derek had one arm slung over Rosie. Serial snuggler that he was, and used to sleeping with an unusually amenable Will the past week, he and Rosie had curled into each other sometime in the night. Presumably for warmth. Rosie’s back is against Derek’s chest, their legs tangled together. They scramble up, pulling away from each other quickly and looking over at the door to the garage which was still being held open by Will. Rosie rubs at her eyes and squints, and Derek dimly recognizes the surprised, hurt look that flashes over Will’s face before a scowl chases it off.

“Will,” Rosie starts, pulling her feet further away from Derek’s and pushing herself up. 

“Thanks for letting me know you were back safe,” Will snaps, and turns to go. As with any time Will walks away, Derek’s chest tightens on a sharp inhale and he’s briefly overwhelmed by the feeling of his lungs being restricted before Rosie is whirling to look at him. “What the hell are you doing?” She demands, “Go talk to him!” 

Derek sucks in another breath and vaults himself over the side of the truck, running to catch up to his very angry best friend. 

“Will!” He calls, heart in his throat as he jogs after him. Ahead, Will is shaking his head and speeding off towards the beach. Derek swears under his breath and pick up the pace a bit, cursing that Will is still faster than him. 

“Will, wait up. Will! Dex!” They hit the sand before Will turns on a dime and comes marching right back.

“What the _fuck_ , Derek, what the _fuck_ was that?” 

Still panting, Derek steps back, hands raised in a sign of peace. “Dude, what’s going on?” He feels a little bewildered, a little lost.

“I-- you didn’t come back!” Will snaps. “You could have at least fuckin’ texted me to let me know you were alive! I was fucking worried you absolute bag of dicks!”

Derek blinks at him, taking in the dark shadows under Will’s eyes, the pale skin - paler than normal, almost gaunt looking. On instinct, Derek reaches for his phone and tries to thumb it on. The screen stays black, and Will laughs, a hard, frustrated sound that makes Derek cringe. 

“Of fucking course. I called you like thirty-seven times last night, dude! I called Rosie another ten! Neither of you fucking picked up, and of _course_ your phone is off. Instead I find you in bed with my _cousin--_ ”

“Woah, no, dude, that wasn’t what it looked like I _swear_ \--”

“Oh yeah, you just end up spooning with someone--” Will cuts himself off this time and looks uncomfortable. Derek rubs a hand over his face. He knows what Will is saying, but yeah, he forgot the fact that accidental spooning has been happening between them, too. 

“Exactly,” he says finally, feeling frustrated and at a loss still. “We’ve been accidentally doing that too.” Will goes a splotchy, uncomfortable red and Derek is as usual distracted from his thought process. 

“That--” Will says, huffing out a breath and looking away, towards the gray ocean and gray sky. “Just shoot me a text or something next time, okay? I don’t… I don’t have a _problem_ with it if you… if you like Rosie or - or anything, just. Don’t fuckin’ disappear like that.” 

Derek shakes his head. “S’not like that, man.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Will snaps, sounding irritable. “Just text.” 

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, “the way things went down last night… I figured you could use a break from me, that’s all, man, I swear. I know I can be a lot, and sometimes I’m… it’s just not worth it, to fight me on…” he trails off. Derek considers himself to be fairly eloquent when he puts his mind to it, but he’s struggling to explain himself here. He exhales and shrugs, “I know I’m a lot.” 

Will doesn’t say anything for a moment, just continues to stare out at the ocean. The tension bleeds out of his shoulders a little, but not into relaxation. His posture is more curled in than it was, and when he glances over at Derek, all he looks is tired. “Yeah,” he says, turning to study his shoes in the sand. “Yeah, you’re a lot all right.”

Derek is glad that Will isn’t looking at him, because it means he misses the shudder Derek can’t help as it rolls across him. He’s a handful, he knows he’s a handful, and he knows it’s not always worth the effort. Matt wasn’t the first person to tell him that, and he wasn’t exactly _wrong_ , either. The fact that Will’s put in this much effort is a lot already, and while Derek breathes through the tight ache that still hasn’t left his chest - only gotten worse over the last minute or two - he resolves to try to be easier on Will. Easier for Will to deal with. 

“Come on, man,” Derek says after he finally manages to get himself under control. “Let’s go back and help with brunch. Rosie’s probably still there helping.” He doesn’t say anything about the pinched look on Will’s face when he says that, but figures he’ll realize Derek isn’t interested in Rosie eventually. He gets not wanting your friends to date your siblings - or practically siblings, at any rate. That’s natural. 

Instead, Derek swings an arm over Will’s shoulder, as they turn and walk back, and pretends not to notice the corner of Will’s lips quirk up.

“You’re still gonna have to give me deets though, brah. Haus rules still apply on vacation and regardless of gender.” Will aims a punch to his kidneys, and Derek laughs all the way back to the house. If joking about it helps make Will more comfortable talking, Derek will do it - even if it sucks to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for that wait, guys. If you follow me on tumblr you'll have seen that I was in and out of the hospital a bunch this week. Everything's good, but that made the process take a lot longer than I wanted! I swear the next one will be up quicker this time.
> 
> come chat with me at sinbindos on tumblr!! I love hearing your comments, and as always, thank you for reading <3


	8. Chapter 8

It’s later when they’re lying in bed – a careful foot and a half of space between them – that Derek speaks up again. After their argument on the beach, Derek had been weirdly bro-y. Not that they weren’t bro-y normally. They were. They totally were. But with Derek sleeping practically in his bed most nights and the weird _sharing_ thing they’d been doing recently, their bro-y behaviour had just been different. So the day was making Will very suspicious. 

Will had made the effort to let Derek and Rosie have some space from him, let them talk and laugh together. He owed them that, if it was something either of them wanted. If it was something Derek might have wanted, no matter what he said. Will didn’t want him thinking that he thought Rosie was too good for him, or. Or that he didn’t approve or something. Will _didn’t_ approve, but not for the reasons Derek would think. Those ones could be hurtful, and Will didn’t want to hurt Derek. Derek deserved better. 

He especially didn’t want to hurt him when Derek, lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, asks, “So, what’s the deal with Brady?” Will is silent for a moment, sort of wishes they weren’t having this conversation, then shrugs in the dim light. “Ex-boyfriend. Old teammate. Pretended to date Ro so my family wouldn’t find out.”

Derek looks over at him, his expression uncertain. “I kinda gathered that much. I – I know it’s seriously not my business but can I… ask?” 

Will sighs. “Yeah, Derek. You can ask now.” 

“Great, cool.”

They’re quiet again, and Will can hear the quiet noises of his parent’s house, so familiar to him. It still feels too close sometimes, but not as suffocating as it had the night of the bonfire. Not as overwhelming. 

“How long did you guys go out?” Derek says at last. 

“Two years.” Derek looks surprised by that, and Will shoots him an unimpressed look. “What?”

“Nothing man. That’s just a long time.”

“And?”

He feels Derek shrug more than he sees it. “I’ve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a year. Guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, you’re a dedicated dude.” 

Will doesn’t know what to do with that, so he goes back to fidgeting uncomfortably, one arm behind his head and the other resting low on his belly. Of all the conversations they’ve had this summer, this is by far the most awkward. This one feels stunted, halting and uneven despite the fact that Will knows Derek must have a lot of questions. He certainly would. 

Will thinks about how open Derek looks in his sleep. How untroubled expression is. It makes something warm burn in his gut, and he realizes he wants more of that – he _wants_ to see the tension bleed out of Derek’s face, wants to see him relaxed and open. In all honestly, Will isn’t sure how to make that happen, but he figures the best way to do that is to go first. So he turns on his side, looking at Derek properly, and shoots him a small smile.

“C’mon man. I can hear you thinking. Ask away.” 

Derek blinks at him, and then the corner of his mouth twitches up a little in a way that makes Will’s heart clench. He’s so goddamn _pretty_ , it isn’t fair. And then Derek turns onto his side completely as well, so they’re lying facing each other, and Will’s breath gets caught in his throat because he can see Derek’s eyelashes casting deeper shadows on his face, and he can feel the gentle _whuff_ of his breath, and he hates how much he loves Derek – 

“Were you not comfortable? Telling – telling us? Or telling me?” he sounds so unsure that Will finds himself shaking his head immediately. 

“It’s not like that, man. I… am comfortable enough. I know what I like, I had to make peace with that years ago. But for as open and… and understanding as the guys on the team are, sometimes it’s just scary. Sometimes it just… doesn’t feel right, you know?” 

Derek nods. “That’s fair. It’s your life, you get to decide who to come out to and when. If ever, I mean.” 

“I know that. I did _want_ to tell you guys, sort of. At least, I didn’t want to lie about it. I just never really got around to it I guess. And then Bitty is the real… I don’t know, the real deal? Not that I’m not – like, I’m bi, that’s a thing and its fine. But I’m not like Bitty and I _do_ like girls, and I think I would have mentioned it if I had started actually seriously dating a guy, but until then I was just hooking up and it was large majority girls anyways and it didn’t really seem to matter I guess.” 

Will cuts off his own rambling, feeling the blush spread across his face. In truth, he had always sort of felt like a liar calling himself bisexual if we was really mostly hooking up with girls. Not that that made him straight or whatever, but the ratio of people he’d slept with was definitely skewed towards females. In fact, aside from Brady, there had only been one guy Will had slept with at all – one of the Samwell Men’s Soccer players, in second year, before he’d moved into the Haus with Derek. Since then he had been sticking to girls. Partly because he was sharing a room in the Haus and didn’t want to have to explain himself, and partly because. Well. The only guy he really wanted was his best friend and roommate. Other guys just weren’t doing it for him.

Derek was watching him, muted green eyes flickering over whatever Will’s face was doing. “You do know that you get to call yourself bi even if you aren’t actively dating guys, right? There's no _right way_ to be bisexual.” His tone was skeptical and still somehow hesitant, like he wanted to make a point but wasn’t sure it was the right one. It sort of was. Will was going bright red, he could tell. He hoped it was dark enough that Derek couldn’t. But luck didn’t seem to be in Will’s favor, and Derek’s expression softened. 

“Dude–”

“I get it, I get it,” Will says, trying to reassure him. “I have some… hang ups, still, I guess. It’s part of the reason I’m _not_ dating guys right now.” A small part, but still an important one. “Brady was real pushy about wanting to tell my family. Before we broke up, he threatened to tell them himself if I wouldn’t man up about it.” Derek looks outraged, and Will gives him a small smile. 

“That’s so fucked up, dude! Who tries to _out_ someone they’re supposed to love to their family? That’s a dick move, and not even the fun kind!” 

Will snorts. “Well, in his defense, being shoved back into the closet isn’t fun either.” Something in Will’s tone catches, and before he can wince at it Derek is sitting up slightly, looking at him in surprise. “Is that–” he says, “is that why you were so adamant about policing the frogs last year?” 

Will make a face but nods anyways. “Bitty has it hard. As much as I fine them, he and Jack deserve their privacy. And we owe it to them to keep our mouths shut.” 

Nursey’s smile is soft, and he lifts one hand to ruffle at Will’s hair playfully. “Aw dude, such a softie!” 

“Fuck off!” 

They tussle for a moment, Will’s hand giving Derek a facewash, and Derek snickering as he tugs at one of Will’s ears. Will’s inner alarm goes off when Derek moves his hand to pull at Will’s hair, and though he manages to restrain himself from moaning, he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine. Derek freezes, and Will backs off quickly, rolling back fully onto his mattress with a huff. There’s a moment of silence and then Will starts talking again, hoping that it’ll distract Derek from his reaction. 

“Brady is a good guy.” He says, a little quietly. “He’s smart, and wicked funny, and good looking. Good with his tongue.” He adds before he can stop himself, and is immediately embarrassed by his own admission. “We… obviously hooked up yesterday. But I don’t know. It feels old. It feels _done_.” 

When Will looks over, Derek’s eyes are serious. “That’s okay,” he says, “and I mean. Whatever happened between you and him… if it’s done, it’s done.”

Will sighs. “I guess. I’m still a little worried. Brady… the last thing he said to me last night was kind of… more in the ‘threatening to tell my family’ vein, I guess. Not that he blatantly threatened to, but it was a suggestion. It was there.”

Out of nowhere, Derek’s fingers wrap themselves around Will’s. “We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Derek says, quiet. “I’ve got your back, man.” Will smiles. 

The silence that stretches between them is no longer bracketed by that awkward, unapproachable distance Will could feel earlier. It’s warmer now, more comfortable. Will’s hand is still wrapped in Derek’s and he doesn’t want to move it, even if Derek _did_ like Rosie, he’s too selfish to give up this small contact. 

“So, what about you?” He asks, mostly to distract himself from the growing alarm at the idea of Derek liking his cousin. Rosie wouldn’t, but Derek… Derek _could_. 

“What about me?” 

“Matt. You guys broke up and you didn’t want to talk about it at all. Can’t be healthy, dude, you guys were together for longer than I’ve seen you with _anyone_.” 

Derek is quiet, but his grip on Will’s hand has gotten tighter, noticeably tighter, and so Will grips back. “I can’t say I particularly liked the guy but I know you did. You… I mean, after Brady and I broke up, I was, uh. Pretty upset. For like, _weeks_.” Will pauses, and then says, “Though if you tell anyone that I will cheerfully beat you to death.” Derek snorts a laugh, and it sounds a little wet, and Will can’t help but look over in alarm. 

“Dude, what? You okay?”

Derek kind of half-laughs, and runs a hand down his face. “Bonfire night, Matt actually texted me.” This was news to Will, who… actually probably wouldn’t have noticed anything because he was so caught up in _Brady_ and _old friends_ and he hadn’t noticed at all what Derek was doing. But Derek had turned his phone off, even though he _never_ turns his phone off, and hadn’t said why.

“Shit. Fuck. Are you… is everything okay?” 

Derek nods, clears his throat, and then says, “Yeah.” 

Will just looks at him.

“Really, yeah. I was trying to avoid thinking about it honestly,” he admits, and Will immediately feels guilty. “Dude, I’m sorry – if you don’t want to talk about it we don’t have to.” 

“It’s okay,” Derek says, sounding more tired than he did moments before. “It’s not a big deal. He was just trying to see me I guess, only I’m not home so. That’s all.” He smiles at Will, and Will thinks it’s supposed to be reassuring, only it really isn’t. 

To his knowledge, Derek spent a couple hours crying so hard that his head and eyes still ached when he woke up after a long nap. Will and Chowder had crowded into him that entire evening, squishing him between them on the roof, sharing pie, inviting him up to Maine. He’d seemed all right after that, and Will had brushed aside his concern. Will was maybe just more attached to Brady than Derek had been to Matt. Plus, Derek was uncomfortably good-looking, he was smart – whatever else Will said to the opposite, they both knew he was smart – and he was charming, in his own bro-y, affected chill way. Will figured he just moved on fast, when he didn’t want to talk about it and went about life as usual.

But something now was telling Will that maybe it hadn’t been that easy. It bothered Derek enough that he’d turned his phone off after getting one text message from the guy, weeks and weeks after they’d broken up. And Derek seemed to be okay, sure, was brushing this off like it really wasn’t a big deal. And Will from six months ago probably would have shrugged and ran with it. But Will from today suddenly wasn’t so sure. Derek – who had anti-depressants and anxiety medication and who had cuddled into Will’s personal space in sleep, craving contact, needing to be close, was trying to be there for Will even if Will was occasionally a jackass, Derek, not Nursey but _Derek_ – turned his _phone_ off after _one text message_. Something did not add up. 

Will’s eyes narrow, and he looks at Derek intently, watching his reactions. “Why did you guys end up breaking up anyways?”  
Derek’s lips press together for a split second. “Dude this really isn’t a big deal anymore. It’s been ages.” 

“You turned off your phone after you got a message from him. Seems like a bigger deal than you’re letting on.” 

Derek is shaking his head before he’s even finished talking. “It’s nothing to worry about man, honestly. I was just over him trying to hook up after everything—” 

“What do you mean after everything?” 

Derek looks uncomfortable, and Will knows he shouldn’t push, knows it's Derek’s business and he would tell him if it mattered, but something has clicked in Will’s head and he is suddenly furious. “Derek. He didn’t cheat on you again, did he? That’s not why you guys broke up, right?” 

Derek releases Will’s fingers and rubs at his face again. He says nothing. 

“Jesus fucking – are you _serious_? Why didn’t you _say_ anything?” 

Derek makes a frustrated noise. “What does it matter? I didn’t want to hear you guys telling me you were right, okay? Yeah, the first time you all told me to dump him, that he wasn’t worth my time, but I didn’t. And then he cheated on me _again_ , and I didn’t want to deal with all you guys getting pissy on my behalf, okay? It’s not like our relationship was _easy_. I was – I was gone a lot for roadies and then he was away at meets too, and I’ve always been someone who needs a lot of… of everything, you know? I mean I’ve been cuddling up to you every damn night, and it’s… it wasn’t easy on him, either, okay?”

“What the fuck, how are you actually defending him right now?”

“Oh my god, Will, I’m not defending him for _cheating_ on me, I just know that being in a relationship with me isn’t easy, you freaking agreed with me _this morning_ that I was a lot to handle. I _know_ what I’m like in relationships and sometimes it’s just too much and Matt… just didn’t think it was worth it, okay? So we broke up. And I know that doesn’t mean he should have cheated on me, that was definitely wrong and I’m super not defending that but just. I guess I get where he was coming from with it.” 

Will stares at him with what he knows was a face of horror and “what the fuck”. Derek exhales heavily and presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, something Will is starting to recognize as a sign that he is upset or panicking about something. So Will takes a breath and puts his hand on Derek’s ribs, since his shoulder is inaccessible. 

“Dude. I agreed you were a lot but not in the _bad, horrible way_ you seem to mean that. You drive me up the wall sometimes, sure, and you don’t always have the greatest regard for your health and safety – I’m giving a pointed look at Nursey Patrol here, man – but you’re a lot of amazing too. You don’t have to defend _anything_ that Matt did, _or his reasoning_. No matter how hard a relationship is, you don’t do shit like that. The fact that he texted you again now – he’s trying to keep jerking your chain, dude, and that’s not cool. I’m your d-man, I’m supposed to have your back, and this is me trying to do that by telling you that no reason is enough reason to cheat on you.” 

Derek hasn't removed his hands from his face, and Will can feel Derek’s heartbeat under his hand, quicker than normal but not full blown panic the way it had been on the boat. Will takes a second to monitor his own breathing anyways, slowing it and breathing deeply in and out. “C’mon man, slow it down,” he says, voice quieter than it had been a second ago. “You’re good, I’m good, I’m stealing your phone tomorrow and deleting Matt’s number from it, and we don’t have to talk about it anymore than you want to. I’m sorry for pushing it.” 

Derek’s heart rate comes down bit by bit, until he lowers his hands from his eyes and looked up at Will, who is propped up on one arm, his right hand still pressed to Derek’s chest. “Sorry,” he says, his voice a little hoarse and his expression intensely embarrassed. “’M sorry, didn’t mean to do that.” Will shakes his head. “Dude its fine. Not like you had a full-blown panic attack, I just pushed you to talk about that a little harder than I should have. My bad, I’m sorry, man.” 

Derek smiles a little, and Will counts that as a win. “It’s okay.”

“And we don’t have to talk about it anymore, unless you want to.”

“Thanks.”

There's quiet again, and neither of them moves. Will is not in favor of anything that meant removing his hand from where it is, where he can feel Derek’s heartbeat, slow and steady and a safe feeling against his fingertips. 

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah?”

“We should probably sleep. Back on the boat tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.” 

Neither of them move. 

“C’mon,” Will says at last, gathering his courage. “We’re gonna end up on my bed anyways. Get in here.” Derek’s eyes flicker over his own, and then he nods, scooting closer until he can hoist himself onto Will’s mattress and under the sheet. It is officially way too hot for quilts, especially for two large hockey-players sharing a bed. Derek makes himself comfortable quickly, and lays sprawled on his front, eyes closed with his face turning towards Will. After a moment Will shifts too, still on his side but with one arm slung over Derek’s lower back, fingertips brushing the skin where his shirt has ridden up. 

Will closes his eyes. He resolves to try to be better to Derek, to remind him that he’s worth it. After a relationship with such a grade-A asshole, he probably needs it, Will thinks. And no matter how strong he knows Derek is – and god, he is, dealing with anxiety and a shitty boyfriend and blind friends like Will and he’s still okay, still laughing and being a smartass and driving Will crazy through _sheer force of will_ – if anyone deserves to be treated well, it’s him. It’s the last thing he thinks before the sound of Derek’s breathing draws him into the best sleep he’s had in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return!!! Sorry for the wait, but I'm back at home from the hospital as of last night, hopefully for good, and so excited to write. I basically got nothing done the whole week, I'm so mad, but here ya'll go, another update at last! Thank you for the patience :) 
> 
> Shoutout to the real mvp of the week, my mom, who I hope to god never reads this but was sweet enough to bake me cookies and attempt to hug me into feeling better. I really lucked out with her, A+ mom-ing. 
> 
> as always, comments make me happy and I love talking to you guys!! and of course come hang out with me on tumblr @ sinbindos, and be aware that if I follow you back it will be under grimfacedgrad because I have no idea how sideblogs work. <3


	9. Chapter 9

Over the next few days, Derek can’t help noticing Will. He always notices Will, obviously – they wouldn’t be such a great defensive pairing if they didn’t – but suddenly Will seems to be everywhere Derek’s eyes fall, smiling slightly at him and playfully touching him. It’s been beyond frustrating, and Derek feels like his head is a ping pong ball being bounced between heartache and lust at all times. Especially since Derek has been trying to cool it, trying to ease off. 

It’s been hard, though, since their conversation the night after the bonfire. Derek can still feel the determination in Will's eyes, talking about things Derek knew he didn't want to face. What was best was knowing that Will didn't feel like he _had_ to tell Derek, it was his choice, he _wanted_ to. And Will had pushed him to talk, too, which - sure, Derek didn't like talking about his issues, his relationships, anything. But since then he'd felt... kind of better about the whole Matt thing. It didn't feel like being scratched apart as much anymore. 

Rosie is less helpful, of course. She's been spending her time shooting Derek amused looks, raising her eyebrows meaningfully and occasionally bumping into him hard enough that he stumbles into Will. And he plays _hockey_. Derek wonders how much Will forced Rosie to play with him growing up for her to be as strong as she is. 

But where Will would usually snark at him to watch where he’s stumbling, or at least roll his eyes at Derek’s blatant lack of sea les, Will just catches him with a hand. He steadies him, shoots him a smile, and goes back to whatever he’s doing. And if Rosie’s around, he always smiles at her too, and it feels like getting _permission_ in a way Derek isn’t sure he likes. He’s starting to wonder if Will seriously thinks that he and Rosie are interested in each other. Will’s family certainly seems to think something is going on between him and Rosie, which is somehow even more confusing. They’re suddenly sitting beside each other at meals, Rosie is being invited over more and more often, and on Saturday when Derek and Will stumble downstairs in the morning in sweatpants and tshirts, freshly rolled out of bed, Rosie is sitting there looking bemused and holding a breakfast tray. 

“Look how sweet!” Barbara coos, “Rosie wanted to make you two breakfast!” 

Derek raises his eyebrows at her, and she scrunches up her nose at him, shrugging. “I just got in a minute and a half ago,” she whispers as she leads them into the living room. “She handed me this tray and told me to wake you guys up.” Will sighs deeply, a long-suffering expression on his face, and applies himself to his eggs. 

Will and Derek eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Derek watches idly as Rosie pokes at the keys of the old brown piano the Poindexters have sitting in the corner of the living room. 

“You play, Ro-ro?” Derek says, grinning through a mouthful of toast. She rolls her eyes at him. “Gross. No, Auntie Barb did, but none of us kids ever took it up.”

“Granddad did too,” Will says, taking a large sip of orange juice, “he likes to play at Christmas when the family is around.” 

“Isn’t the family always around?” Derek asks.

“Well, fine. More around than usual. Christmas is different.” 

“How is Christmas different?”

“Shut up, it’s festive.”

“Oh my god, are you a secret Christmas lover? I’ve known you for three years how didn’t I know you were secretly waltzing around the Poindexter house in ugly Christmas sweaters, shouting carols and playing Auld Lang Syne on the piano?” 

“Fuck off, I don’t do any of those things. We’re Catholic okay, we take Christmas seriously. And I don’t play piano.”

“Whatever, you stum the guitar then.”

Rosie snickers from her perch on the piano bench. “Actually,” she says after hitting several wrong-sounding notes, “If Billy learned how to play Auld Lang Syne granddad would cry. He’d cry manly, manly tears.”

Will snorts. “Yeah only because he thinks that’s the way to woo a woman.” He grins at the face Derek is making, “He and Granny used to sing and play together when they were young.” 

“Aw.”

“He swears it’s half the reason she married him.”

“What was the other half, the trademarked Poindexter charm?”

Will looks like he’s sucked on a piece of lemon, and Derek laughs loudly. He grabs another piece of toast and leans back against the couch. “Seriously though man, if it’ll make Granddad Poindexter happy, I could teach you how to play Auld Lang Syne. Or any other emotional Christmas song of choice.”

“You play piano?” Rosie asks, and Derek shrugs. “Chill. I had lessons a lot when I was younger.” 

Beside him, Will looks startled. “I didn’t know you could play any instruments.”

“Ch’yeah. My parents are pretty chill about most things, but they were strict about the school stuff. My sister plays violin.”

“When did you start learning?” 

“It’s not guitar, dude. That’s the instrument angsty teens pick up and practice their hearts out on and get really good in a few years and play at bonfires with,” he shoots Will a sly grin, and then shrugs again. “I played classical, for the most part. Started when I was four. Switched to jazz when I was thirteen, and quit just before senior year of high school, when hockey became the priority.” 

“You’re telling me you took thirteen years of classes and I’m only finding this out _now_?” 

Derek ruffles the back of his hair nervously, a sheepish expression on his face. “Well, I’m not great at it. I just took the classes.” 

“Holster plays the piano, how is it I know _that_ but not about you?”

“It’s not a big deal, brah. It was never a real passion of mine. I loved the jazz, but I was never gonna like. Be some musical genius, you know?”

“Play something!” Rosie chimes in, saving Derek from having to explain his reluctance to talk about it. Piano had always frustrated Derek more than he wanted to admit. Classical music had never really spoken to him – sure, some of it had been beautiful. He couldn’t help loving nocturnes and slow, sweet, Clair de Lune style, damper-pedal heavy pieces. But being mixed had its pitfalls and not connecting with the music of old, dead white guys was one of them. Until he’d discovered jazz, and it was like the world of music had broken open for him, the same way poetry was starting to break open for him. 

Music and poetry and hockey had been his saving graces at school. At hockey he could get out the physical shit – the frustration and anxiety and all the bad things he didn’t know how to deal with. In poetry he could settle himself, pick apart words and understand the reader and it felt like coming home – like when things got too rough, he could pick up the right piece and there were the words he was feeling projected right back at him from the page, from someone long gone. Someone feeling the same way he did, the same way he still does. Someone who went on living too.

Music was just like the other two – discipline and practice and focus – and he loved making something beautiful, he did, but he didn’t get as much out of it as he had with poetry or hockey. So when it came time to choose, he dropped it. Besides, books were easier to carry around than pianos. But it was hard to describe, hard to put into words, and even though it was something he might have shared with Will… only in their bedroom. It made Derek cringe a little, to think that to himself. But it was true, the only place he would have felt comfortable admitting that would be in Will’s childhood bedroom. And then, really only to Will. It wasn’t something he could to share with anyone else. 

“Sure,” he says anyways, standing up and brushing off his hands. Rosie takes his seat on the couch and Derek moves the seat back enough that his legs have room. He glances over at Will and Rosie and is reminded again of how similar they look, watching him, both of their heads tilting slightly to the right like they’re curious and waiting. A little like puppies. Derek snorts at that, and his immediate nervousness evaporates. 

After a second’s consideration, he puts his hands on the keyboard and stumbles his way through something he think he might remember off the top of his head. It’s not like he gets much practice in during the school year. But “Summertime” was always one of his favorites, he must have played it a thousand times as a teenager, and if it is a little show-boaty, Derek makes up for it by stumbling in a few places. Though with jazz, it can be hard to tell, he thinks to himself wryly. 

After a few minutes of effort, Derek lifts his hands from the keys and slides around in his seat. He opens his mouth to make some awkward comment about how yep that was him playing the piano let’s move on shall we, but Will’s mother is standing in the doorway looking absolutely dazzled. 

“Oh Derek, I had no idea you could play!” she says, her smile warm and wide, the way Will's is when Derek has said something particularly funny. It derails Derek for a second the same way, too. “Rosie, wasn’t it absolutely _lovely_?” 

“Yeah, that was great,” Rosie says, and she actually sounds like she means it. Derek’s eyes find Will, who looks like he’s taken a hard check if his slightly open mouth is anything to judge by. Derek smiles back at Auntie Barbara, a little stiffly, and gives her the same line he gave Will and Rosie. “It’s not a big deal,” he says, “I took lessons a lot as a kid.”

“Well,” she says, “You’re lucky you did! Girls find music incredibly charming, you should just ask Will’s Granny! It must be a family thing.” She throws a wink in Rosie’s direction and disappears down the hall again. There’s a moment of silence before Derek whispers across the table, “Dude, why does everyone in your family think we’re dating?”

The question is aimed at Rosie, who shrugs, but it’s Will who answers, voice pitched low. “I mean it’s not impossible, is it?” 

Rosie and Derek look at each other in surprise and then turn to Will. “What are you talking about?” Rosie says, looking vaguely annoyed, “Of _course_ it’s impossible. You _know_ why it’s impossible.” She is giving Will an unreadable but very pointed look that Derek can’t decipher. 

“Wait are you – Ro, are you _into girls_?” Derek whisper-shouts at her, leaning forward on his seat. 

Rosie stifles a laugh. “Not as far as I’m aware,” she whispers back, “pretty sure it’s just Will’s—” Several things happen simultaneously. First, Will elbows Rosie so hard in the ribs she yelps. Second, Aunt Sarah chooses that moment to tumble through the front door, arms laden with dishes. Derek leaps up to help her at once, and several small children run past him down the hall and towards the backyard. 

“Oh, thank you sweetheart,” Sarah says breathlessly, following her children and planting herself at Barb’s side in the kitchen.Derek trails after her with the dishes. “You can just leave those here, if you don’t mind,” she says, brushing the hair back off her face. He does, and offers her a smile when she thanks him. 

“Sarah, did you know that Derek can play the piano?” Auntie Barb asks, putting a hand on Derek’s arm. “He just played for Rosie and Will in the den! Isn’t it romantic?” 

Sarah looks surprised, and glances up at Derek carefully while Barb takes one of the dishes Sarah brought and shuttles it out to the grilling station in the backyard, evidently not looking for an answer. “It is romantic,” Sarah agrees. “Did Will know you play?” 

“No,” Derek says, sounding every bit as shy as he feels about this. “It’s not really something I advertise.” 

Sarah hums to herself. “Will loves the piano, though he never actually bothered to learn. Used to sit on the bench with Granddad and sing along when he was real little.” 

“Will sang?” Derek’s tone was probably more gleeful than it should have been, but Sarah raises her eyebrows in evident amusement. “Yes, he did. I’m sure he was impressed that you play.” 

Derek knows how awkward he looks, and hates it, but shrugs anyways. “Will’s not impressed by much, so I doubt it. I can’t play well anymore.” 

“Well, Will has always seemed impressed by you.” Sarah says firmly, and then turns her back on him to put a tray in the oven. “Be a dear and grab Rosie for me, will you?” She says, her back still turned. 

As Derek returns to the living room, he can hear Will and Rosie having a very quiet, very heated argument.

“Don’t make me do it for you, because I will!” he hears Rosie say, her tone low but angry. She looks up when Derek reappears and rearranges her face into a smile. “I guess that’s my cue to go help the women,” she says with a sigh, and skitters past Derek out the door. Will still looks upset, so Derek claps him on the shoulder. “You all right, man?” 

“Yeah, fine.” His tone is surly, not promising. Derek ruffles his hair, “Come on brah, let’s go chase some kids and day drink with your uncles. Live up to that Irish stereotype.” Will snorts a laugh, so Derek counts that as a win, and they wander out to join the men. Jeremy has just wandered in through the back gate carrying a fold-out table from the garage, so they move to help him set it up. 

The day goes as most Saturdays do, and when it starts to get a little darker Derek finds himself sitting on the steps to the back door with Rosie, a beer bottle dangling loosely between his fingertips. 

“I thought you should know,” Rosie says as they watch Will tumble with a cousin across the lawn. “Wednesday is the fourth of July. We do a block party every year, it’s a big thing.” 

“Bigger than this?”

“This is just the family. We invite the neighbors too.” 

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. But uh… it’s being held at Uncle Colin’s this year.” 

Derek nods, making the mental reminder that Uncle Colin has three kids and lives on Gablehurst Crescent, the most fairy-tale street name he’s ever heard of. “That’s chill,” he says.

“Not so much, actually.” Rosie admits, leaning her chin on one hand. “Brady’s parents live on Gablehurst too, so he’s probably going to be there.” Derek freezes. 

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Does Will…?”

“He knows.”

“Cool, cool.” Derek knows this is the least cool thing, and he starts bouncing his knee nervously. “So what do we, uh. Do? About that?” 

Rosie fixes him with a hard stare, and Derek feels very alarmed all of a sudden. “Brady is going to try to get Will alone again,” she says, and something in her voice makes Derek shiver. “I don’t want that to happen. It’s dangerous. Both for our family situation, and for Will’s feelings.” Derek nods, but Rosie doesn’t seem like she’s done speaking.

“I don’t know what you said to him, the day after the bonfire, when you two ran off together. It’s not really any of my business. But I expected Will to be a _mess_ , and he wasn’t. For weeks before they broke up, Will and Brady fought all the time, and on more than one occasion I found Will locked in his room freaking out. It was almost worse after they broke up, but then Will went off to school and it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Separation helped, I think. Will was obviously upset after bonfire night, but he wasn’t like I expected. Whatever happened, whatever you said, you being there for him helped him deal with it. Better than he normally does, anyways.”

Derek clears his throat. “I mean, we’re a team. I’ve got his back, always.”

“I know,” Rosie says pointedly, and Derek can feel his face heating. “Not like that. I mean yes also like that, but not as far as he’s aware. I just meant – we cover each other on the ice, okay? We’re a pair, we’re partners. We look out for each other. I’ll be gum on his shoe at the party, and if that dick says anything, I’ll cover for him off ice too.”

Rosie just looks at him for another minute, and then nods. “You should really tell him, you know,” she says at last. Derek sputters. “He’s your best friend. He should know how you feel.” 

“Rosie, don’t, please,” Derek begs, “This isn’t about me. This is about Brady right now, okay? You really think piling my feelings on him unsolicited is going to lower his stress levels on the fourth? He’ll spend the whole party freaking out. He’s going to anyways, why make it worse?”

Rosie’s irritated expression returns full force, and she grabs Derek by the wrist. “Why do you think being honest with him will make his life harder?”

“Because it will! Will is one of my best friends, I don’t want to put more strain on our relationship than there already is.”

“Is there strain on your relationship?”

“Ro, we bicker and fight like every minute of every day. That’s not easy to deal with.”

“For most people maybe. But for you guys it just seems like its part of your dynamic.”

“I always hated when people pretend like that’s a good thing.”

“I don’t mean it like that, dumbass. I just mean that… look, you guys fight over dumb things like raising in oatmeal cookies–”

“Raisins are the devil! Will had to have been dropped on his head as a baby to like them–”

“—and which Mighty Ducks movie was better. Shut up, I don’t care which one was better! My point is just that you guys argue like you’re having _fun_ doing it. You also agree on a lot of things, even if you don’t want to admit it. And Will’s an argumentative guy. He _likes_ to rile people up. That's Will being _playful_.”

“You’re really making me feel like a special case here.”

“I’m just saying that’s normal and healthy for Will! You aren’t some strain on his life, Derek, you make him laugh. If you didn’t have a monumental crush on him, would you want to hang out with him anyways?”

“Sure, he’s funny in an unintentional way and sarcastic and I kind of love it. Also, he’s good with his hands.” Rosie raises her eyebrows.

“Not like– oh my god I can never get through a conversation with you about this, can I? I just meant that. I don’t know, okay? He knows how to do a lot of cool stuff. I think he’s a cool dude. Platonically. And also non-platonically, but I would think he’s cool even if I didn’t want to jump on him and drag my hands through his hair.” 

“Thanks for the visual.” Rosie says, looking unimpressed.

“You started it!”

“And I'll end it. I have it on good authority that Will actually really likes it when—mmfph!” 

“Shut up, oh my god, you’re his _cousin,_ why do you know that, why are you _telling_ me that?” Derek whispers frantically, and Rosie licks the palm of his hand.

“Gross, I’m the younger sibling in my family, that’s my job!” He whines. 

“Your fault, stupid. I ran in on Will and Brady once when his parents were about to get home. There are things I cannot un-see, and I refuse to suffer alone.”

“I hate you.”

“You do not.”

“I do.”

“Liar.”

“I admit to nothing.”

Rosie just sticks her tongue out at him, and then her face sobers quickly. “Seriously though,” she says, “it’s fine if you don’t want to tell him before the fourth. But you have to tell him soon. Don’t make me do it for you.” Something about the way she says that niggles at the back of Derek’s head, but she stands and brushes off her legs. 

“You wouldn’t dare!” he calls at her retreating back, watching in horror as she shoots him an evil looking smile over her shoulder.

“Watch me,” she says. 

Derek isn’t sure whether he hates Rosie, or admires her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternative title is “Rosie Can’t Take This Any Longer”
> 
> Thank you guys for all the feedback and messages! We're getting so close, things are going to go DOWN at the fourth of july party! Not to hype that up or anything. I was intending for this to be longer but honestly it served its purpose and I really wanted to get writing the fourth of july party already, so I might have started doing that early. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!! come !!! with me at sinbindos - reminder that I follow back from my main account, and for all you sweethearts that have been asking, I've been doing a lot better this week :) <3


	10. Chapter 10

The 4th of July is honestly making Will lose his cool. He’s sure Derek would say he had none to begin with, but Will did, he definitely did, and now it’s almost all gone. He tries to distract himself by tossing a football back and forth with Derek, Jeremy and a few of their more pubescent cousins, but he can’t totally ignore it when Brady and his parents walk through the back garden gate. Robbie chooses that moment to aim the ball at Will and in his moment of inattention, he doesn’t see it until it’s bounced off his forehead. 

“Smooth,” Derek says, snickering as he catches next and passes off again. Will gives him a hard look, eyes flickering over his shoulder again to where Mr and Mrs Miller and standing with their son. Derek’s eyes widen and he takes an aborted step towards Will, but recovers himself and steps back quickly. Glancing around uncomfortably, he catches Jeremy’s eye – his brother is watching him with a guarded expression on his face, a slight downward tilt to his mouth that’s so like their father’s that it makes Will want to cringe. _Great, for once he notices something_ , he thinks, lobbing the ball more lightly to thirteen year old Mikey. 

Because everything in Will’s life is conspiring against him, Brady walks up to them, the slow, loping stroll Will knows Brady only assumes when he feels like he has the upper hand. Which he does, he definitely does. Especially when he takes a place between Jeremy and Derek and pulls his hands out of his pockets. 

“Mind if I join in?”

Derek’s face is smooth and calm, and he shrugs with a nonchalance Will can really only be jealous of. “Sure brah, it’s chill.” He says, snatching the ball out of midair and lobbing it over to Robbie, who is standing on Will’s left looking between them curiously. Jeremy just frowns and Will can feel the heat on the back of his neck, afraid in a way he almost never is anymore. 

They toss around the ball for another few minutes, chirping each other and snickering when someone fumbles. Will gives Mikey and Stephen some tips as they play, listening carefully when Brady talks to Derek. 

“So, Samwell hockey, huh?”

“Yep,” Derek pops, unconcerned.

“Didn’t know college athletes could look that good,” Brady says, a teasing smile in his voice that makes Will glance over sharply. Brady raises his eyebrows and keeps talking. “If I remember correctly, Will said you play defense, right?” He continues, smiling wide at Derek as he catches and passes the ball. 

“Yeah, Will’s my defensive half,” Derek says, “which basically means I’ve got his back on and off the ice.”

It’s subtle, but Derek is staking his claim in a way that makes the heat that’s been simmering flood Will’s face. It sounds casual – the tone so careless it might seem like he’s making a joke, but Will knows better and so does Brady. He doesn’t look towards them again, keeps his eyes on the ball instead. He can feel Jeremy watching.

“Will’s a lucky guy, then.” Brady says, grinning. 

“Pretty sure you said that in reverse before, brah,” Derek says, his tone sarcastic. “But it has nothing to do with luck. We have good chemistry on the ice. We work hard for it.” 

“Yeah,” Brady laughs, “spending a whole summer with him _has_ to take dedication, man. I know what he’s like.”

Derek’s calm expression cracks for a moment and his lips thin just slightly, enough that Will knows he’s getting pissed off. “It’s not hard, Will’s one of the best guys I know.” 

“Sure, but sharing a room? I’ve spent a _lot_ of time in his room, it’s _tiny_. Gotta be real close to put up with that for so long.” 

Derek shrugs. “We share a room back at Samwell,” he says, “and it’s never been an issue before.”

And that’s a lie – Derek and Will are constantly arguing back at the Haus, but he won’t mention that now. Will continues pretending to ignore them.

“Oh really? So you’re used to sleeping together, then.” Will stiffens automatically and Derek looks down his nose at Brady with a slightly disgusted expression on his face. “Bunkbeds are a real space saver.” His tone is clipped and he’s been doing a good job of deflecting every suggestive comment Brady has made so far, but Will sees where this is going a moment before it happens.

“Let me guess, you’re on the bottom? Will always did like to be on top.” 

Will wants to throw a punch, he really does, but Derek’s face stops him in his tracks. It has the same look as when someone from the opposing team has checked Will and is about to get their ass handed to them. For a guy who has such a strong hold over his feelings, Derek’s face is surprisingly emotive in this moment, surprisingly beautiful in its laser-focused gaze, and Will sends up a _thank you lord_ when Rosie makes a timely entrance. 

“Derek, your biggest fan wants you,” she says, holding Lily out for him to take. Derek’s furious expression is chased right off his face by toddler hands, and Lily shrieks happily as he balances her on his hip. 

“Time to go rumble with the little ones, huh, kid?” Derek says, a small smile slipping on quick at being faced with tiny ringlets and long lashes. Will wants to whimper a little bit, but he shoots Brady one last dark look and walks past Derek and swings an arm over Rosie’s shoulder. “Let’s go make sure Jacey hasn’t murdered the twins yet,” he says, leading them past the table of parents and neighbors sitting around drinking beers. 

 

.

Dinner is every bit as stressful as Will was anticipating. Jeremy and Brady and a couple of the other neighborhood kids all join Derek and Will in the grass, chowing down on Will’s family fourth of July classics – lobster rolls and hot dogs, fiddlehead and thick corn chowder, and many, many homemade blueberry pies. He can feel Derek’s gleeful smile aimed at the side of his head, and when he leans over to whisper “Brah. The stereotypes. The _stereotypes_!” he refuses to acknowledge it.

When Derek finally gets to the pie portion of the evening, he moans around the first forkful, loud enough that Will immediately full body blushes – he can _feel_ the heat crawling across his skin, god damnit – and whispers a furious “Jesus, Nurse, what the hell?”

“Brah, this pie! Have you not tried this pie? We can never tell Bits about this, man. He’ll cry. Bitty makes a mean blueberry pie but this is _actual crack_ , oh my god.” 

“Maine blueberries,” Rosie says around a mouthful of food. “They’re the best.”

“Yeah, I know that _now_.”

“Seriously, bro, it’s a stereotype for a reason.” Will shakes his head.

“I’m going to die. I am going to eat all this pie and then I’m going to die.”

“At least you won’t have Bits forcing us into soviet morning calisthenics anymore this year.”

“Chow’s as bad as Bitty, he’s gonna drill us into the floor.” Derek says, pointing his fork at Will with an unamused expression.

“Not true. Bust out the puppy dog eyes and you know he’ll cave.”

“Maybe if we _both_ do them, and promise to practice extra later. But then he’ll just go over to Faber by himself anyways to commune with the pucks or something.”

The thought of their goalie trying to practice alone is heartbreaking. “No way, we can’t let him.”

“It would be so _sad,_ brah. Plus Farmer would kill us.”

“In our sleep,” Will agrees, putting down his empty plate at last and brushing off his hands. “Going to wash my hands, I’ve got pie all over them.” He stands and walks inside, too full of food to really jog it, even though what he wants most of all right now is to keep sitting next to Derek in the dark, talking about their friends and their life at Samwell. It’s keeping him grounded, thinking about Chowder and the team. Keeping him sane. So as soon as he’s finished, he makes a bee-line right for Derek again, dropping down into the grass beside him.

“Rosie abandon us?” he asks, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. Derek’s eyes are a little glazed over, staring off into space. When Will follows his gaze, he notices little sparks of light flickering in the dusk. “Fireflies,” he says, and he wonders why his tone is surprised – they’re always here in the summers. 

“I’ve never seen them in real life before,” Derek says at last, leaning back on his elbows. 

“Really?” 

“Grew up in New York, brah. There aren’t really many fireflies in big cities. And we weren’t technically allowed out at night at Andover.” Derek chuckles, and Will snorts in response. “Yeah like you weren’t sneaking out all the damn time.”

“Guilty,” Derek admits, “but it was mostly to hook up or getting lit in the forest. Not so much for sitting around in big open spaces with your bros.” He nudges Will and shoots him a grin, then looks back at the fireflies with an expression Will associates with particularly good poetry. Or what Derek considers particularly good poetry, at least. It makes him ache.

“You gonna write something about this later?” Will asks idly, watching him out of the corner of his eye. So he sees Derek’s embarrassed expression and how he rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I guess…” Even Derek’s laugh is a little awkward, and Will can’t help finding it endearing. “I like the romance of fireflies in theory. It’s nice to finally see them in real life.”

“Yeah, nothing says romance like a bioluminescent ass.” Will says, because he doesn’t have a single romantic bone in his body, but Derek bursts out laughing anyways. “Dude! You’re ruining it! Fireflies _are so_ romantic.”

“Are _not,_ ” Will says, just to be a dick, and Derek shoves at the side of his head.

“They are, fuck off. They’re tiny sparks of light in the darkness, they’re… they’re seeing bright things when there are none. A symbol for hope, or maybe for doing the thing you’re scared of even if you think there is no hope.” And Will hates that. Hates that Derek makes boring, normal things seem beautiful. Hates that where Will sees bioluminescence and a way to warn off predators, Derek sees a willingness to act on hope. He doesn’t see bugs being cautious about their frail living conditions. He sees life trying to survive in the dark. It’s brave, and it’s beautiful, and it’s all very _Derek_. 

“Will…” he says, and when Will drags his eyes away from the fireflies and meets Derek’s, there’s something there – something open, and honest, and soft in the same way they are only together in Will’s room at night. 

And then Brady drops down on Derek’s other side with a cheerful, “Ready for the fireworks?” as he cracks open the beer in his hands. 

He’s sitting closer to Derek than Will is, shoulders practically brushing, and Will is automatically warily, unsure. The fireworks start going up, they can see them bursting into color high above the treeline, and Will has always loved Fourth of July fireworks but he isn’t paying them too much attention this year. He’s looking at Brady over Derek’s reclined position, who appears intentionally lazy. Brady raises his eyebrows at Will, and then hitches a smile onto his face and jostles Derek a bit with his shoulder. 

“So these are your first Fourth of July fireworks out in Maine!” Derek nods, a cool dismissal that’s clearly meant to convey that he isn’t impressed with Brady so far, and isn’t fooled. 

“They’re a great show every year,” Brady continues, “its nice Will finally brought someone home to see them. Right, Will? You haven’t brought _anyone_ home until now.”

“I was having a crappy semester, so Will was doing me a favor, I guess.” Derek says, his tone short.

“Oh yeah?” Brady asks, and Will is instantly afraid. “What happened?”

“Nothing much,” Derek says, “we got knocked out of Frozen Four, that sort of thing.” It doesn’t sound nearly casual enough, and Brady smiles. He smells blood. “Bad breakup, too, huh?”

Derek can’t help the knee jerk reaction he has, looking over at Brady in surprise, his eyebrows up. _Fuck,_ Will thinks. “Back off, man,” he says instead. “It’s none of your business.”

“Woah, come on Billy,” Brady laughs, hands raised – as if Will would believe he comes in peace, _please._ “I’m just getting to know the guy. He’s one of your best friends, right?”

“Yes,” Will’s tone is rough, and he knows he sounds more petulant than he’d like. 

“So what happened?” Brady asks, his face sympathetic. “Let me guess – he was a dick and you dumped him?” 

Derek shrugs, staring up at the fireworks overhead. “Something like that.” 

Brady sighs, “I know all about bad breakups, man. The last guy I seriously dated – I thought we were _perfect_ , you know? He was strong and smart, a hockey player, too. I guess I have a type.” Will has never been more uncomfortable in his life. Derek knows he’s bi, now. Derek’s aware. But Brady doesn’t know that, and is trying to dangle the information right in front of his best friend, trying to make problems. And worse, he’s saying this at Will’s _family party_. They’re not sitting too close by to anyone but each other, but the proximity they have is enough to make Will frightened – and he is, he’s so _so_ frightened. He feels sick. 

“It’s a shame,” Brady is saying. “He left me for a big fancy school so he could be _out_ and _not afraid_ and he never had to be in the first place. It’s the worst feeling in the world, being someone else’s dirty little secret, you know? It’s isolating, _hurtful,_ and it wasn’t even necessary. It’s not like he would have lost his home over it–”

“Full offense meant, brah – could you literally be any more of a dick?” Derek asks suddenly, cutting him off. “Seriously, because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.”

Brady plays up the surprise. “What?”

“We all know you’re talking about Will, man, I’m not surprised by that. But trying to out him like that? That’s fucking cruel.” 

“No, cruel is making someone else feel like they’re a mistake you’re making. Cruel is not being able to trust or rely on anyone you know because someone else is forcing you to keep _their_ secret. Cruel is being forced into the closet against your will.”

“Then you should have broken up with him if you couldn’t handle it!” Derek says, sitting up properly. His face is sharp and angry, and Will is so stunned he can hardly believe this conversation is happening at all. “You should have told him you couldn’t do it! You don’t put this on someone who isn’t comfortable enough to tell their family yet – being out isn’t _your_ choice to make for someone else. It doesn’t _matter_ how hard it was for you, outing someone against their will is and always will be the biggest dick move. That makes _you_ the cruel one, Brady, not Will. And from what it looks like, he was right – you _were_ a mistake.”

That is, perhaps, a bit of a low blow. Will knows Derek can be just as cutting as he is when he really wants to be, and he feels a slight twinge of regret at the hurt that bleeds across Brady’s face. But before he can say anything, Brady’s face has gone right back to calm, and he’s smiling at Derek in a way Will knows too well – a way that means Brady is about to deal back more hurt than he just felt. 

“Well, at least I had him. The difference is, you’re sitting here pining over him so much its pathetic, and Will? He knows it, you aren’t exactly _subtle_ , Derek, but Will can see your walking disaster from a mile away. He wouldn’t touch you if you _begged_ him to.”

Will is frozen, unable to process, and Derek… Derek has never looked more blank. It scares Will. “Whatever happened between you and your boyfriend,” Brady says, his tone sweet and deadly, “that’s on you. I don’t have to know a damn thing about your relationship to know you sent him running. I don’t blame Will for not wanting any part of that.”

Before he can say anything worse, any more lies that Will can’t bear to have Derek listen to, he stands, grabs Brady by his jacket, and hauls him away. Will has always been bigger and stronger than Brady, and in front of their families, Brady doesn’t fight back. Will drags him out to the front of the house, taking the side route so his parents and Rosie’s parents don’t think they’re starting something. “What the _fuck_ , Brady, where the hell do you get off?” Will pushes him up against his uncle’s house. 

Brady just smirks. “What, like anything I said was wrong? This is a small town, Will, people talk. I know he had a little cry on your uncle’s boat during that storm. What happened to hockey players being tough?”

“Derek’s a stronger man than you could ever be,” Will hisses, furious. “You wouldn’t understand. He almost got killed on that boat, he would be dead if I hadn’t been there. Being scared doesn’t make you less of a man.” 

“That’s not what you said for most of high school.”

“That’s because I’m not _in_ high school any more. Being away from this place – being away from _you_ – taught me a few things. One of which is that having feelings does not make you weak, it makes you _strong_. And facing them makes you _brave_.” 

“Don’t bullshit me, Will, I know you too well for that. You can’t honestly tell me you believe that shit when you’re still in the closet at school, can’t even come clean about _that_ –”

“That is not the point!” Will shouts, and he’s so glad the fireworks are still going off, explosions of sound drowning them out. 

“Coming out, not coming out, that’s _my choice_. I can tell whoever I want, and I don’t have to tell anyone I’m not ready to tell! What the hell, why are you still so hung up on this?”

“Because!” Brady snaps, and then his face abruptly softens, his expression hurt. “Do you have any idea how hard our relationship was for me? How hard it still is for me?”

“Then Derek was right, you should have broken up with me for it at the time, instead of letting it fester and turn into some horrible blackmail you dangled over my head for years!”

Brady looks taken aback. “It wasn’t _blackmail_ , Will, it wasn’t like that.”

“Like hell! You gave me ultimatums using it as a barter piece!”

“I just wanted you to choose me!” Brady snaps, pushing Will back a step. “I wanted you to show me that I meant something to you!”

Will took a deep breath, and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from doing anything. “I’m sorry you were hurt, Brady, I really am,” he says, and these are things they should have said to each other years ago. Before Will just left for Samwell. Before their relationship turned into something unbearable for both of them. “But you had no right to do any of that. I should have been better at talking to you, showing you that I cared about _you_ and not just keeping our secret. Relationships like that… they take communication, I get it now. It takes re-negotiation. I saw the captain of my team do that over and over again through the last two years. It wasn’t easy. But you still had no right. None of that makes what you did – what you’re still doing – any better. I deserved better. We both did.”

Brady is quiet. “You’re not the same person you were,” he says at last. “and I kind of hate you for it.”

Will shrugs. “We aren’t together anymore, so it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to like me.” Brady just scowls. “I’ll see you around, Will.” He says eventually, turning and walking out towards the cars parked along the street. He’s gone.

Will stands there for another minute, breathing. For the first time in years, Will feels good about how that interaction went. He feels… settled. Summers of sneaking around, avoiding family events or anything that might bring him in proximity with Brady, hell even avoiding their friends and bonfire nights just to escape having this conversation, it’s all over. He doesn’t think Brady will try to bring this up again – Will is pretty sure he made his feelings clear, and maybe it’ll be easy with Brady just disliking him as a person now. At least there won’t be a temptation to hook up again, if they genuinely don’t like each other. He certainly couldn’t do that again. 

And then Will’s brain catches up to itself, and all he can think about is the look on Derek’s face as Brady hurled insults at him. Will is moving before he can stop himself, jogging back down the alley and through to the backyard, jogging back to Derek.

When he gets there, Rosie is sitting with one arm looped through his, her head on his shoulder as they watch the fireworks still going. She gives him a pointed and then stands, throwing a light “I’m going to get more pie,” over her shoulder as she goes. 

“Hey,” Will says, offering Derek a hand up. “Wanna go for a walk?” Derek nods, and lets himself be hauled into standing. “Let me just tell my parents and we can bounce,” Will says, and runs off to tell his mom. After making excuses about wanting to see the fireworks from the beach and saying thanks to his uncle for hosting, Will meets Derek at the gate and they walk out together. 

It’s quiet, apart from the sound of the occasional firework popping. It’s late enough that there’s going to be one last wave of them before bed, Will knows well enough by now. So they walk down to the beach and idly make their way across the shoreline, the sound of the ocean calming Will. It sounds like lungs, like great big breaths, like a sleeping beast Will has known his whole life. It makes him feel peaceful, at ease in a way he rarely feels in Maine. For the first time since high school, he doesn’t feel so afraid. 

“Listen,” Will starts, kicking at rocks as they walk by. “I’m sorry about what Brady said – about all of it. I hope you know none of that was true.”

Derek shoots him a small smile, and Will is relieved to see it’s almost amused. “You know,” he says, “There was definitely a time in my life – not even that long ago – where saying that to me would have been devastating. And I probably would have believed him.” Will gives him a worried look, but he just shakes his head. “I don’t, not really. Not as much now.” Will lets it drop.

They walk in silence for another minute. “I finally told Brady… well, a lot of stuff I should have said ages ago.” Will says, a little sheepishly. “But I don’t think he’s going to keep up with being a dick to me. I think maybe he knows it isn’t worth it any more. Or at least, that I don’t care? I can’t really tell which.” Will feels more nervous than he should, but he feels like he owes Derek an explanation after everything. 

“Either is good,” Derek says, and Will nods. “He just always tried to make me feel bad for… having feelings, I guess. I told him off for it. If… if being at Samwell, being with all you guys, has taught me anything, it’s that it’s okay for me to have feelings, you know?”

Derek smiles at him, and Will feels something warm blossom in his chest. “You’ve grown up a lot, since starting,” Derek says, nudging him affectionately. “I’m proud of you.” 

Will doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he gives Derek his biggest smile, and tries not to look awkward about it. Derek blinks, his eyes flickering down to Will’s lips and then back up, and Will – Will can’t breathe for a second. 

“You know,” Derek says, his eyes never leaving Will’s. “Brady said a bunch of stuff tonight I’ve always dreaded hearing. But when he was saying them, all I could think about was how he didn’t know what he was talking about. After Matt, you guys – Chow and Bitty and everyone – you were all so great about it. And after three years at Samwell, I guess being on the team makes you feel a little more worthwhile.” Derek says, and laughs a little, “but you taught me that most of all. Did you know that?”

Will shakes his head mutely. “You did. You’ve been here for me in a way I’ve never… I haven’t…” he stumbles, seemingly unable to finish that thought. So Will grabs him by the sleeve, pulls him to a stop, pulls him a little closer. “I treat you how you deserve to be treated by someone who cares about you. And I’m probably not as nice as I should be, even then.” 

Derek shakes his head. “Give me some credit, I know I’m not worthless, Will, I know better. Even if it’s sometimes hard to believe it sometimes. Even if… I had a part to play in why Matt and I broke up, I know I didn’t drive him away like Brady said, and… and I know I’m still a bit of a walking disaster – don’t shake your head at me, I just am, okay? But that’s okay, I’m okay. I’m going to be okay.”

“You are,” Will says, gripping Derek’s arms with both hands now, fingers tightening reflexively on his sleeves. “And I can’t tell you how much… how much I…” Will is definitely mostly staring at Derek’s lips now, occasionally flickering up to his eyes – his beautiful, warm green eyes, dark and cool in the night. 

Derek’s lips part, and he’s watching Will. This close, Will can see his eyelashes trembling. The last wave of fireworks are going off, stunning lights over the trees, the beach, the ocean. Brighter than the fireflies, more hopeful. Less cautious. Will leans in. 

Derek’s fingers brush Will’s jaw, and Will’s lips stops just short of Derek’s. “I know you care about me,” Derek says, his voice hovering above a whisper. “I know how I feel. I know I… I want you, want this. But are you? Because I don’t know if I can… if I can stay here, stay with you, if you don’t mean this. If it isn’t…” he stops. He breathes in. “Is it worth it?” Derek whispers. 

“I want this, I want you,” Will says, voice hoarse already. Derek doesn’t look like he believes him, and Will is fairly certain that Derek has never been more wrong about anything in his life. Will leans in again, and their lips meet. The beach is silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FULLY DISAPPEARED FOR A FEW WEEKS THERE SORRY GUYS 
> 
> this is not the end!
> 
> also, happy pride month, ya'll! This is my obligatory reminder to take a leaf out of Will's book and remember you don't owe anyone anything. Being okay with yourself is more important than being out - don't let anyone pressure you to do that if you aren't ready. Stay safe, love each other, and celebrate being you however you can this month! <3 
> 
> as always, come life chat with me on tumblr at sinbindos! I love hearing from all of you, even when I disappear for several weeks and am a Bad Bad Updater


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so the smut begins! warning: here there be oral sex. I considered marking it with a star, but it kind of takes them a while to get to it and I wasn't sure how much to include in the star? Let me know if you guys want that in future chapters.

Everything is Will. It’s _Will_ in Derek’s arms, _Will’s_ fingers tangling in his hair, _Will’s_ hips twisting closer. Derek can feel his breath hitch in his chest and oh – there’s Will, too, the smell of his body wash and the tang of the ocean in his hair filling Derek’s head and driving out everything that isn’t _freckles_ and _warmth_ and all the things he can’t help associating with his best friend now. 

The kiss is sweet, surprising, lips pressing gentle but sure against his own. It’s nothing like Derek has ever imagined with Will. His instinct is to press forward, make it fiercer, transform it into something dirty and wanting – but Will slows him down, pulls back just a little, gentles Derek’s grip on his hips and cradles his face between both hands. That more than anything punches the air out of his lungs, and Derek can’t help the tiny whimpering sound he makes in the back of his throat. 

Will finally pulls back, presses another soft kiss to his lips, and then a third. His mouth moves to the soft skin on Derek’s throat, hovering over his pulse point, and then Will says – so quiet that if the fireworks were still going Derek probably wouldn’t have heard it – “Worth every minute.” It sounds so sincere that the ball of emotion Derek’s been holding in his chest tightens further, close to snapping, and Derek feels _overwhelmed._

Will’s fingers tangle with his on one side, and Will’s free thumb strokes back and forth across Derek’s slightly stubbly jaw. He swallows, and looks up into Will’s eyes, so dark in the dim light. “You never said anything, before.” Derek says at last, after another long moment of watching his best friend carefully. 

“Neither did you,” Will points out, a small smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. Then he shrugs. “I wasn’t out to anyone but Rosie, you were dating that asshole, and honestly I wasn’t sure this went both ways.” 

Derek scoffs. “You weren’t sure this went both ways even after I crawled into bed with you most nights for the past few weeks?” Will has the good sense to look a little embarrassed. “Just bros being bros?” 

Derek pinches his waist, and Will snickers. 

“Come on, let’s go home,” he says, fingers tightening around Derek’s hand and tugging a little. “For the record, I highly encourage you crawling into bed with me.” 

“Even though it’s hot as balls out?” Will wrinkles his nose, “Fuck off, did you have to word it like that?” 

“I’m not wrong, it’s like a sweaty ballsa-” Will slaps his hand over Derek’s mouth, laughing loudly into the quiet ocean air. 

“That’s gross, you’re gross, what the hell!” 

“I have a way with words, I can’t help it,” Derek gasps, snickering when Will wipes off the hand he just licked on his jeans with a disgusted expression. 

They’re laughing as they pour into the car and make their way back to the house. It’s dark, as expected. They had been on the beach long enough that Mr and Mrs Poindexter definitely had time to beat them home, and the only light in the house is coming out from under Jeremy’s door. They sneak into Will’s room, turn on the light, and as soon as the door is shut Derek swears the air gets heavier with anticipation. 

Months and months of sharing the same space, constantly in each other’s presence and _wanting_ – god, Derek didn’t know when Will started wanting him back, but he knew it had been long enough for him to be desperate. Derek crawls back over the slightly uninflated air mattress and onto Will’s bed, then strips his shirt off and drops it off the side. It’s all pleasure, watching Will’s face as his mouth drops opens and the slightest tinge of pink floods his cheeks. It occurs to him that even after years of undressing in the same space, seeing each other utterly nude countless times, this is the first time Will’s ever really _looked,_ checked him out with intent. Derek shifts his hips a little, his heart in his throat. 

After a long minute, Will is still frozen and Derek shoots him an amused grin. “Come to bed,” he says, stretching out long and watching Will’s eyes widen slightly. Before Derek can say anything else, Will whips around and flicks the lock on his door, drops his own shirt to the floor and shuffles across the beds toward him. 

“Hey,” Will says, lying down on his side next to him and kissing him soft and sweet again. 

“Sup,” Derek grins when they part, putting an encouraging hand on the back of his neck, tugging him down firmly and deepening the kiss. He lets Will lick into his mouth, hot and wet and Derek makes a sharp, desperate noise. He doesn’t even have the space in his head to feel embarrassed by it, especially when Will trembles, one hand curling around the back of his head and the other pulling Derek in by the waist until they’re pressed against each other all the way down to the knee wedged between his own. 

Heat shivers up his spine, and even the cool ocean breeze coming in through the half-cracked window doesn’t alleviate it – Derek feels too hot, burning up under Will’s hands. He wants to have Will all over him, _god_ he does, already hard enough that his shorts are uncomfortably restrictive, but he freezes a little when Will’s fingers curl just under the elastic of his boxer briefs. Something about this feels too fast, even as he can feel himself wanting to be touched more. He tries to relax his muscles, tries to melt back the way he had been a minute ago, but it’s too late. 

Will stops and pulls back a bit, bumping his nose against Derek’s. “Hey,” Will says again, sliding the hand back up. His fingers ghost across Derek’s abs, trace the line of his ribs up and over his throat, and brushes a curl back from his forehead. Derek shivers, squirms up into his touch. _That,_ Derek thinks. _More of that._

Will’s eyes are all dark and intense and what the fuck? Will has always been hot, always been gorgeous to Derek, how could he not be? All warm colors and light coppery shading and the way Will’s fair skin had burnt earlier but faded to a warmer tan and brought out _all those freckles, God, or Allah, or someone had to help him._ But he might as well have been blind. Maybe it’s because he’s never seen Will so obviously turned on, especially not this up close. But he can feel Will’s gaze on him like warm, heavy hands on his already heated skin, and it doesn’t let up even when Derek’s eyes flutter shut and his head tilts back, demanding a kiss. 

The huff of laughter and the hard way Will presses his lips against Derek’s relaxes him a little more, Will’s thick fingers gripping at his waist and making him feel anchored. The same feeling he gets when Will puts a steadying hand on him on the boat, or a protective arm around him when he’s anxious. He’s not sure if that was Will’s intent, but it works, and Derek melts back down completely. “What do you want?” Will asks, the words said against Derek’s lips. 

Derek looks up at Will, a little uncertain. “Kiss me some more?” He asks, his voice just above a whisper. Will does. Will’s kisses are intense, and like everything else about him, a little rough. They kiss for long minutes, fingers brushing across skin, getting messier and more desperate, until Derek is panting. Will’s weight is pressing down onto him more fully now, and he loves the sinking feeling of being totally held. He lets a shiver dance up his spine when Will mumbles, “God, Derek, how are you real?” into his collarbone and grips him tighter. 

Derek is all for rough sex. He’s all for hard, desperate make-outs on couches or up against walls or even pressed down in bed. He loves dragging his fingers down skin, having someone else’s fingers press into his muscles. But sometimes, the tone of it bothers him in a way he isn’t sure how to approach. A way he doesn’t have words for. And whatever this is with Will – wherever this is going – he wants it to be _different_. His skin is screaming for a kind of closeness he doesn’t know how to ask for yet, but he _wants_ to ask, wants Will to get it. Derek is… he’s _good_ , feels better than he has in ages, and he _knows_ he can ask Will for this. If he can find the words. 

And Will? Will can clearly feel the hesitation, the tension he’s holding onto. He’s always known when Derek pauses on the ice, sometimes before he even notices it himself. He covers him. They have each other’s backs, and this isn’t any different. He gentles his touch again, pulls back a little for a second time and looks down at him, a small smile twitching up the corner of his lips. The tiny smile Derek never noticed before last year and which suddenly became something just for _him._ “Whatever you want, whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

That ball of emotion sitting on his chest cracks just a little bit. “Just like this,” Derek mumbles, reaching for Will’s hand and dragging it gently across his own skin until Will’s hand is cupping his jaw. He tilts his head a little, nuzzles into it. “Just more of this.” 

Will rubs their noses together, and leans in for a chaste kiss, and then a second, and then the kisses become less chaste but have none of the edge of aggression Derek is used to with sex. It’s all soft, clinging lips and slick, curling tongues. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely – you got it, baby,” Will breathes, and then immediately goes bright red under his freckles. Derek’s eyebrows shoot up – he never pinned Will for the endearment type, but somehow it fits. Fits the same way carrying a baby and talking him through car maintenance fits. He doesn’t say anything about it, part of his head registering that in any other scenario he might chirp him for this but it feels – so _good._

Will’s hands run across his shoulders, the lightest of touches, his calluses occasionally catching on prominent muscles. They pull as they smooth over his lats and tug just a little as they sweep across his biceps. Before he knows it, Derek is gasping, letting out tiny whimpers, trying to be quiet but not quite managing it. Across the hall, Jeremy is listening to music in his room, and Derek sends up a grateful prayer. 

And then Will is moving down Derek’s body, his tongue pressing into the place he’d been sucking on at his pulse, and Derek arches up into it. He moves further, licking up sweat from the hollow of his throat, traces the muscles of his chest and lets his tongue lave wetly at his nipple. Derek can’t help himself – he moans. “Shh,” Will says, nuzzling into his skin. “Gotta be quiet, baby,” and Derek swallows back hard. It’s _so much._

Will’s lips move to the other nipple, tugging gently and grinning at the catch in Derek’s breathing, clearly fighting to hold back a noise. He skims his nose down Derek’s ribs, kissing him there when Derek squirms, ticklish. Then he kisses across Derek’s waist, trails around his hip bone, and pauses. He’s lying between Derek’s legs, a hand on one thigh and the other cupping his hip. Will leans his chin against the v in Derek’s hips. Derek lets loose a quiet whine, can’t rip his eyes away from the glazed expression on Will’s face. “Can I?” Will asks, voice burning with want. It makes Derek tremble, and he nods once. “Please?” He asks breathlessly, and WIll buries a tiny groan into his thigh. “Fuck, Derek,” he says, hand coming up to flick at Derek’s shorts. 

Shorts and briefs come off quickly, and Derek bites his lip when the cotton drags down his cock. Will doesn’t just go for it though – they’re both naked, skin sticking together in a way that makes Derek want to moan out loud. He bites his lip instead, chokes back the noises in his throat. “So good,” Will says softly, moving up to kiss him again. “God, Derek, you’re so gorgeous, so good,” Derek’s breath is coming out rough, and he’s so hard he’s going to _die._

He reaches with one hand, brushes fingertips across Will’s crown, and relishes the harsh gasp he gets in reply. Will isn’t quite as long as Derek, but he’s definitely thicker, and Derek hums a little as he pushes the foreskin down, sliding it over the head and touching a finger to the tip to smear his pre around. He lifts the finger to his mouth and licks it without thinking, lost in _Will_ and _holy shit_ he is having a hard time wrapping his head around this. 

“Let me,” Will’s ragged voice cuts into his thoughts. “Let me take care of you, wanna taste you, please, Derek,” his breathing has gone uneven and his hands are everywhere, gently kneading Derek’s muscles and palming at long stretches of skin, a reverent touch that’s making Derek’s head swim. When Derek nods, Will slides down again, licks a stripe up his cock, kisses his head. 

“Fuck, Derek,” Will murmurs, tiny kitten licks around his tip, lapping at the bead of moisture that wells up. Derek lets one hand tangle into Will’s hair, trying not to arch when Will lets him rest just on his lips, parted slightly so Derek can feel his breath hot over his length. 

Will presses in slightly, so his head just pushes past his lips, then pulls back. He does it again. And again. His tongue darts out again, circles his head quickly, and then Will is ducking down, pulling him into his mouth and moaning softly around him. “Oh fuck, oh shit,” Derek’s fingers tighten reflexively, and Will moans a little louder, shudders around Derek’s cock, completely forgetting his own comments about being quiet. 

Will can’t get his head all the way down, not even close, but Derek can still feel it when he hits the back of Will’s throat and it’s so good, the tight wet heat of Will’s mouth, swallowing around him. “Fuck, Will,” Derek gasps, “Not going to last long.” Not with the unselfconscious, messy way Will is going for it, his lips a brighter pink than his flaming cheeks, his eyes totally glazed, his mouth stretched wide around Derek’s cock. It’s so different than what he imagined – his best friend, his d-man, his roommate, always so careful and direct. But Will seems to be lost in his desire to make Derek feel good, and the way one hand is rubbing circles into Derek’s thigh, encouraging him as he tugs on his hair, makes Derek whimper and gasp out Will’s name. 

After another dozen strokes, Derek can feel himself trembling all over, so close to coming already. “Will, I’m gonna–” Derek warns, tugging at his hair again. “Will, Will, God, I can’t – you have to – ” Will shakes his head just a little, tries to cram more of Derek in his mouth, moaning shamelessly and swallowing again and again, sucking at his head with each stroke. “Will, fuck,” and Derek is coming, completely overwhelmed, shaking apart. Will’s mouth disappears and Derek can hear him gasping, quick, punched out noises he’s trying to keep quiet, and then his mouth is back, sucking gently at his head, sensitive but so good, and _holy shit Will just swallowed his come._

“Here, come here,” Derek gasps, tugging at Will’s shoulder and reaching when Will lets him slip out of his mouth and moves up to eye level. Derek kisses him, tasting himself on Will’s tongue, _loving_ the way Will’s hands are still touching him so gently – caressing, almost. Making him feel nothing but _good_ and _warm_ and _soft_. 

Derek lets his hand fall to Will’s hip, but looks down in surprise when he finds Will only half hard, going soft, and kind of wet. “Did you…?” 

Will is bright red, the pink stain hasn’t faded yet, and he looks a little embarrassed when he nods. “It’s been a while,” Will says, “since I’ve uh. Given a blowjob. I really like it.” Derek isn’t sure why that sounds like an admission, but he pulls Will’s mouth back to his. “You came from giving me head?” He asks breathlessly. Will pushes a damp curl back off his face, and nods again. “In my defense,” he says, “you are so fucking hot when you come. And you were pulling my hair." 

“You like that?” 

Will snorts. “It wasn’t obvious from the way I was moaning for it? Thank god Jeremy has music on, and that these walls are pretty thick, or we’d be in so much trouble right now.” 

His hands are still brushing over Derek’s skin, tracing tiny circles into the valleys. Will lies down properly, pulls Derek into him so that that he’s curled with his head on Will’s chest, and Derek takes a moment to be surprised – usually he’s the one curling someone into his arms, but the easy way Will does it surprises him. He jumps a little when Will’s fingers brush through his hair, gently stroking while the other hand holds him close. “You okay?” Will asks, and Derek presses his nose into the crease of Will’s neck. “Yeah, Will. I’m so good. You?" 

“Perfect.” 

They’re quiet for a few long moments. 

“Thank you,” Derek says eventually, quiet. He knows Will will know he’s not just talking about the blowjob. “You’re welcome,” Will says, and his voice is so gentle and warm, Derek’s eyes flutter shut on instinct. 

“I should probably clean up before we get to comfortable,” Will says, dislodging Derek, who whines his protest. “Dude, I just came all over the side of my bed. I’m gonna have to wash these sheets tomorrow so no one sees them." 

“You mean so Rosie doesn’t see them. Your parents never come in here.” 

Will groans. “She’s going to be insufferable from now on.” 

Derek just laughs, watching as Will balls the shirt he just used to clean up his come and drops it in his laundry bag. He moves to the door and turns off the light as well. “Move or I’m squishing you,” he says, then immediately throws himself down on the bed so he’s half covering Derek. “Ow, asshole!” Derek pokes at Will’s side and snickers when he curls up automatically. “You’re like a clam,” he teases. “Poke the soft part and it’ll snap down.” Will snaps his teeth at Derek playfully and uncurls a little so they’re facing each other on their sides, knee to knee and forehead to forehead. 

“I really… really like you,” Will says quietly. He reaches out one hand and lets his fingers brush down the side of Derek’s face. Derek can feel heat warming his skin, and is glad as he always is that it’s impossible to tell. “I really like you too,” Derek says, nuzzling up into Will’s hand, “in case you couldn’t tell.” Will gives him a blinding smile, slightly smushed into the pillow. 

“Now I know." 

They just look at each other for a long moment, and then Will snorts. “C is gonna freak.” 

“Totes, brah. He might shit himself.” 

“Dude, I just had my mouth on your dick, you should probably stop calling me ‘brah’.” Derek sends him a wounded look. “Never. It’s a lifestyle! I can’t give it up, I took an oath.” Will just rolls his eyes. 

“You picked it up at your fancy fuckin’ prep school, Nurse, don’t fuck with me.” 

Derek squirms closer, pushes Will so that he can pillow his head on his chest again. It’s new, but he really, _really_ likes that. “I would very like to fuck with you. A lot.” Will laughs, and Derek can hear his heart beat, steady like it always is, matched with his breathing and so soothing. 

“Do you mind if we keep this quiet for a bit?” Will asks, his fingers threading through Derek’s hair again. Right then, Derek thinks he’d probably agree to anything, so long as Will doesn’t stop touching him like this. “Mm, s’fine.” Derek mumbles. “Not gonna make you come out to the guys if you aren’t ready to. M’not Brady.” 

Will is still and silent for a moment, but continues stroking Derek’s hair. “I know you aren’t,” he says, and his voice sounds so tender and Derek blinks up at him in the darkness. “Sorry, was that out of line?” He asks, realizing that might have been a sore point after this evening. 

“Nah. But I guess I kind of had it out with Brady earlier.” 

“You did,” Derek confirms, nosing at Will’s neck. “Feel good?” 

“Yes and no. Kind of sucked during, but it feels good to have got it all out there, you know?” 

“No, but I’m glad you did.” Derek says, and his heart almost stops when Will presses a tiny hiss to his hairline. Like Will hadn’t just finished sucking him off, a forehead kiss was the thing that made him weak. 

“I really am sorry, for what he said to you. I’m glad you know none of it had any truth.” 

Derek shrugs a little, surprised at how genuinely unhappy Will sounds about it. “Its stuff that I’ve thought to myself for a while, but having it thrown at me by someone I know wants to hate me? I dunno. Feels worse when I’m saying it to myself. Would feel worse coming from someone I loved – or cared about at least.” 

Will is nodding, his chin tousling Derek’s hair a little. It tickles. Derek feels warmth well up in his chest. 

“Like on the ice. Someone on another team checks you or insults you, you know its shit. Someone on your team though? That’s different.” 

They’re both quiet for a while. But now Derek is thinking – not that Brady was right, definitely not. And he’s not doubting Will exactly, not with how Will’s just treated him, calling him baby, touching him like something precious and _worth_ taking care of. He knows Will cares about him, knows Will wants this. But he isn’t sure how serious Will is going to be after _all_ Derek’s bad days. It’s the longevity of it that worries him. At least as roommates, they didn’t have to talk about their feelings. They could ignore each other a little bit. But as boyfriends? Or whatever Will wants them to be? He’s not as sure. 

And he doesn’t really have the heart to talk about it right now. Right now, he’s too comfortable. Too warm, and still feeling kind of wobbly from the way he can hear Will’s breaths evening out as he drifts closer to sleep, a lullaby Derek has been soothing himself to for years now. So he nuzzles into Will’s shoulder instead, sighing as he gets tugged in tighter under the weight of Will’s arms, and surrenders himself to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yeah, for a wordsmith Derek isn't solid with vocalizing shit yet. He'll get there. Especially since Will is officially On Board The Feelings Ship. 
> 
> I return from the US safely! thank you guys who gave me recs of places to visit and things to see. I actually did a lot of them! I hope you're all having a good pride month, have some smutty smut to go with it. 
> 
> special shoutout to @zombiesolace whose reviews on every chapter gave me INCENTIVE this week. I love hearing your favorite lines from the chapters ahhhh!!
> 
> Come chat with me on my tumblr, sinbindos! and please. always help me procrastinate. I love it when you guys enable me.


	12. Chapter 12

For the thirteenth day in a row, Will wakes up stupidly, embarrassingly, almost disgracefully happy, with Derek snuffling into his neck. He almost kind of wishes he were _less_ happy, because then he would be less inclined to keep a hand on Derek at all time, even in front of the family that he is definitely not out to. He might also be less likely to slip up and come distressingly close to saying ‘I love you’ as often as he has this week. His teenage self would be mortified by this, so Dex shoves the part of its brain that’s raising its eyebrows at him in disbelief down hard, and runs his hand down Derek’s spine instead.

“Mmf,” says the pile of hockey player sprawled across his chest. “Got’a pee.” Derek’s voice is low and sleepy, and he stumbles to his feet and out the door with his eyes half shut. Will fucking _adores_ him. 

Will takes the quiet moment to survey their room. It’s messy, and they should probably do laundry today. But it’s the weekend, and the Poindexters have – for once – foregone the weekly cookout because the twins and Lily are sick, and Paul and James have a soccer championship semi-final, so most of the family is going to that. But it’s not mandatory, really, so they’re in no rush to get up. 

From the bedside table, his phone pings – there’s a text from Chowder there, and one from Rosie. Rosie’s message is infuriatingly smug. It had taken her precisely twelve hours from their disappearing act at the Fourth of July party to find out that Will and Derek had holed up in his “sex cave”, a term she only used after storming into their room the next morning with guns blazing, ready to stage an intervention. 

Will and Derek had both been in advanced stages of undress, with a sheet pulled up _just_ enough to cover Nursey’s bare ass and one of his thighs. His other leg had been hitched up over Will’s hip, and Will isn’t a hundred percent sure that Rosie didn’t see him fully naked. Worse, up until that point they had been lazily making out in bed, Will’s dick hard against the soft skin of Derek’s inner thigh. 

Rosie had shrieked, slammed the door shut again, and spent the entire day switching back and forth between mortified and triumphant. Eventually the embarrassment faded, and she began a tirade of “I told you so’s” so frustrating that Will had kicked her out of the house. 

Now every text she sent was coated in a thick film of smug, and Will couldn’t say a thing about it.

> Stop fucking your boyfriend

> Come downstairs, I’m bored!

> BILLY don’t make me come up there, you know I will. we don’t want a repeat of last time

< What the hell are you even doing here?? 

> It’s Saturday dingus, I’m here every Saturday.

< Cookouts cancelled pipsqueak. Let me sleep in peace. 

> Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

 

The door opens and Derek ambles back in, yawning widely. His hair is mussed from sleep and he rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. Distantly, Will makes a mental note that he has never seen anyone more beautiful.

“Rosie’s downstairs.” He says, dropping his phone and opening his arms for Derek to climb back into.

“Least we’re clothed this time,” Derek mutters, folding himself into Will’s chest and pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. Will shivers. “We can change that,” he offers, and he can feel Derek’s lips twist up into a smile from where they’re smushed into his shoulder.

“Mmmm,” Derek hums, “I could be convinced.” 

Will slips a knee between Dereks and presses his hips forward, rolling so he’s hovering over Derek just barely, pressed up against him all the way down. Derek makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat. 

It hasn’t even been two weeks, and they haven’t gone a day without this – have hardly been able to go ten hours without this, really. As soon as they’re off the boat they’re back in each other’s arms, hands tugging at clothes and fingers in hair. Will loves it.  
Last year, he’d thought that if he and Derek ever managed to get together – unlikely though it seemed to him at the time – it would be full of hard grips and the rough mashing of lips. Unbearable, overwhelming, probably born out of an argument. 

This is _nothing_ like that.

Oh, it’s overwhelming, and unbearable. But it’s more than that. It’s soft, sweet touches and slick lips and their noses bumping against each other. It’s intimacy in a way Will is almost a stranger to, but it _fits_. Derek is warm and gentle, vulnerable in a way he never has been with Will before, and it makes something in Will’s chest twist, his heart trembling in his ribcage. Will is filled with the overpowering desire to _cherish_ him, to build his best friend a place where he can be as vulnerable as he wants, and know that Will will never throw it back in his face. Will wants soft because Derek wants soft, and Will thinks he could never get tired of this, knowing that these touches make Derek’s eyes flutter and his hips twist up against him. 

The door bangs open, and Will springs off Nursey so fast he tumbles backward off the bed. 

“Ow, _fuck_ , Rosie what the hell!” Will snaps over her laughter, and scowls at Derek, who is sitting up and looking deeply amused. 

“I warned you!” She trills, throwing herself down on the sagging inflatable bed. “Morning Derek.”

“Hi,” Derek says, laughter clinging to his voice. And fuck, Will can’t be mad when he’s this happy, goddamnit, he’s going to need to get it under control before the season starts or he’ll spend all his ice time watching Derek skate with a dazed expression. 

“We’re going out,” Rosie announces, hands tucked behind her head, “so shower and get ready. Derek, you first.” 

Derek shoots Will an amused look and stands, grabbing some clean clothes and his toiletry kit. 

Will flops back down on his face, grumbles “How are you so irritating?” at his cousin, and reaches for his phone again. Chowder’s message is still there – a text asking to move their skype date up a couple hours the next day. He quickly shoots back an agreement, and looks over at Rosie, who has been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time.

“What’s up?” he asks, rolling so he’s staring at the ceiling, too. Rosie shrugs. 

“You know Robbie thinks me and Derek are secretly dating?”

Will snorts. Screw being a handyman, heteronormativity is the true Poindexter family skill. “Of course he does.” 

Rosie looks up at him. “That doesn’t bother you?”

Will frowns. “Sure it does. But it’s not exactly surprising, either, given the last time…”

Rosie is quiet, then curls up like a bug, turning on her side and leaning her forehead against Will’s shoulder. He looks at her in surprise – Rosie is never like this. 

“What’s going on, Ro-ro?” he tugs at her ponytail. 

“What’s the hardest part? Of this whole thing with Derek, I mean. Guys generally I guess.”

Will thinks about that for a second. “Having to hide him, probably,” he says eventually. “That’s definitely the worst part, anyways.”

“How so?”

Will hums. “I guess I hate that it’s so far from a sure thing, our parents being okay with it. I mean, Derek’s parents are great about this stuff, and our families are just…. Not. It sucks that I know he deserves better, and he knows he deserves better, and that changes nothing. I don’t _want_ to hide him, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Not till I’m older at least.”

“What if there was?” Rosie’s voice is quieter, muffled. The shower is running. Will looks down at her, his brow furrowing. He really isn’t sure where she’s going with this.

“What do you mean?”

“What if there was a way to change that – to not hide him?” Rosie lifts her head, and he’s startled by her expression – it’s hard, and tired, and very unlike Rosie’s usual easygoing expression. Usually her face is the flip side of the coin against Will’s expression, but now, with the tense set of her jaw and the tight look in her eyes, he feels like he’s looking in a mirror a little bit.  
Will flounders for a moment. “Uh, I’m not sure what you mean, but I’m pretty sure there’s no changing our families.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What if there was a way to make it better, for you guys. A way you wouldn’t have to hide him. Would you do it?” 

Will just blinks. “You mean like coming out? I mean, yeah, of course. I _want_ to, eventually, but not… not right now. I don’t really want to get disowned, and I do still need a place to live during holidays and shit.” Will swallows past the sudden hardness in his throat. He knows this is an eventuality – he knows he has to come out eventually. With Derek in his life now, and hopefully with him _staying_ in his life, it’s unavoidable. But to get kicked out now? That would be a lot.” 

“I’m not saying _you have_ to do anything,” Rosie says, rubbing a hand down her face. “I’m not saying that at all. Just food for thought.”

The shower turns off, and Will shoots Rosie a puzzled look. “Ro, is everything okay?”

“Fine,” she says shortly, then stands. “Your turn to shower, Billy! Hurry up, we’ve got a lot to do today.” And she prances out of the room as if nothing was the matter.

Will is still staring at the ceiling looking beyond confused when Derek enters again. “You’re up, Poindexter,” he says, hanging his towel on the back of Will’s door and running a hand through his curls. “You heard the woman, we’ve got plans today.” 

Will blinks, and then nods. 

“Hey,” Derek says, stopping him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Will shakes his head, trying to clear it. “yeah, just had a weird as fuck conversation with Rosie.”

“Weird how?”

“…I’m honestly not sure. She asked about my coming out plans, kind of.” 

“Oh.” Derek looks surprised, his eyes scanning Will’s face for signs of distress. “And what did you say?”

Will shrugs a shoulder, heaving himself off the bed with one hand. “Nothing you don’t already know. That I hate hiding you, that I want to come out eventually, but now isn’t a great time for it…” 

Derek’s expression softens a bit, and his hands drift to Will’s hips, pull him in a bit. “It’s okay,” he says, “I don’t like it either, but I get it. They’re your family.”

Will kisses Derek instead of answering. They’ve been talking about this, the last two weeks. Will wants to make it very clear that Derek is a priority to him, is someone he _wants_ , for keeps. But without so many words. 

Will heads to the shower, and lets his mind wander away, to Chowder, to Samwell – to home.

 

X

 

Rosie’s plans mostly involve dragging Will and Derek around town and helping her run errands. 

They pick up a bunch of weird things – things Will is pretty sure Rosie’s house already has, and that Jeremy or their Dad would definitely have if Rosie’s parents didn’t. Mostly things pass around from family to family so regularly that eventually, no one has any idea what belongs to whom anymore.

So it’s a bit of a surprise that Rosie is buying a hammer and a wrench and practically a whole new toolbox worth of things – and  
it’s not like any of their families are wealthy enough to throw money at things they don’t need.

But Rosie had seemed so off this morning, so unlike herself, that Will doesn’t question it, just walks along behind her and carefully folds and saves all the receipts – just in case.

It’s mid-afternoon by the time they get back to Will’s place, and since his parents are out at the soccer game with the rest of them, they fend for themselves for dinner. 

They’re sitting around the kitchen eating mac and cheese when Rosie finally breaks the silence. She’s sitting cross-legged on the counter, the pot balanced on her knee while Derek and Will eat out of bowls like civilized human beings.

“I got offered a scholarship to UMaine,” she says, conversational, like she hasn’t just dropped a small bomb on the room. Will freezes. Rosie doesn’t look up from her pot. 

“What?” He asks, and even his voice sounds frozen. Derek sets down his bowl and puts a hand on Will’s leg under the table. 

“For pre-med,” she continues, as if she didn’t hear him. “I’m supposed to start in September.” Her tone is doubtful, like she isn’t convinced it’s going to happen.

“It’s… but it’s July. How did you… when did you…?”

“I applied last fall, got my acceptance in May. Got a couple scholarships, and I’m qualified for financial aid.” 

“Rosie, that’s… holy shit.”

“Yup.”

“Congrats, brah,” Derek says, stepping in so naturally Will is grateful for the moment to process. He watches Derek pull the pot from Rosie’s hands and swing her in a circle. He’s grinning, that huge, 100-watt smile. “Why didn’t you spill the beans earlier?” Derek asks, taking the question out of Will’s mouth and managing to not sound like a dick the way Will knows he would if he had asked. 

“Wasn’t sure I wanted to go,” she says, sounding sheepish. “I’m _still_ not sure. It’s a lot of debt – a lot of years to be in school. Plus, I'm leaving behind the whole family. I mean, it's only UMaine so it's not like it's that far from here, but it's far enough..."

“You should do it.” It’s the first thing Will manages to get out fully, and then he’s pushing his chair back and moving to pull his cousin into a tight hug. One of Derek’s hands lands on his lower back, and he feels warm - that Rosie is telling them first. That she's telling Will _and Derek_ first.

Rosie laughs, and the sound is a little wet. “Well, I managed to get you two idiots together, so you’re one less person I have to worry about.”

“Are you kidding me, that’s why you didn’t tell me sooner?” Will demands, his tone edging into pissed off. He gets it, he does -  
an opportunity like this, it's amazing. It's a great idea. But in practice? It means leaving behind your family. It means moving away, with the potential that you might never come back. It means growing away, the same way Will grew away from his old high school friends, almost never sees them anymore. The way he feels a little like a stranger in his own home sometimes, even though he loves his family more than anything. He gets it, he totally does. But of everyone Rosie should be worried about with this news, he's not one of them. Derek prods him with a finger. 

“I wasn’t sure I was even going!” Rosie protests, brandishing her fork at him. “And your head was busy with other things.”

“His head is _still_ busy with other things,” Derek interjects, a sly grin on his face. 

Will just groans. 

“Look, don’t tell anyone yet okay?” Rosie pleads, knocking one fist into Will’s chest gently. “Almost no one knows.”

“Your parents?” He asks, but she nods at once. “They know. They’re not sure it’s the right thing either, but they know I’m enrolled at least. They agreed not to say anything until I’ve made final decisions.” 

“All right,” Will says, leaning back against the counter on Rosie’s left and stealing a forkful of her noodles. “I’ll keep quiet. But only if you tell me how the hell you managed it! Didn’t you drop the required sciences as soon as you got the chance?”

Rosie gives him a sarcastic look, tilting one head to the side. “What do you think I’ve been doing the last couple of years?”

“…Apprenticing?”

“At the bookstore?”

“You like reading! I figured you were out to be the next bookstore owner or something!”

“That would be a wicked job,” Derek supplies from the table. 

“I swear to god, Nurse if you call it ‘chill’ I will–”

“It would be so chill!” He protests, throwing down his spoon. “I’m just calling it like it is!” 

Will groans again. 

“I was working at the bookstore while I did my classes,” Rosie says, exasperated. “I don’t want to work there for the rest of my life.” She looks down at the mostly empty pot, and then looks back up at Will, her eyes fierce again like they were this morning.  
“And you know… watching you guys… I guess I felt like it was time to do something brave, too.” 

Derek kicks his foot out, presses it against Will's. Their toes touch, slide past each other. Playing footsie in his kitchen. Will smiles at her, wide, and he knows he looks like a goofy kid when he smiles like this but he doesn’t care. He’s too happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this was hard to write only because I'm setting up for so. much. shit.
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL I'M SORRY FOR THE MULTI-MONTH WAIT thank you everyone who sent me health wishes!! <3 <3
> 
> if you want to hear my writing struggles, feel free to message me at sinbindos on tumblr!!


	13. Chapter 13

The next day is weirder than the last.

Derek isn’t sure what’s going on between Will and Rosie, but he catalogues the furrow between Will’s eyebrows as he watches his cousin, and all he can do is toss an arm casually around Will’s shoulder in an intentionally douche manner in front of the Poindexters. 

Rosie going to college. Will was already so proud of her. 

“I get why she’s afraid,” Will had said quietly into Derek’s neck the night before. “It’s the same reason I was afraid to go to Samwell. And she has every reason to be.” Derek doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he drops a kiss to the top of Will’s head. 

“She’s got us, though,” he says after a moment, “and she’ll be okay. Just like you will be.”

“I hope so,” Will sighs, rubbing his nose back and forth against Nursey’s skin. “I hope she’ll be better off than me.”

Derek tightens an arm around him in response. 

Rosie hangs around all of Sunday morning, more quiet than usual. She asks Derek to play piano, which he does out of deep concern for what’s brewing, and smiles when Will’s mom fusses about it. By the time she’s done talking about the Poindexter grandparents, Rosie has disappeared off the couch, and comes down the stairs almost an hour later looking confused but more relaxed than she had all weekend. 

“What’s up, ro-ro?” he asks later when Will is helping Jeremy pull a tarp over the exposed bed of the truck, in which some machinery is being housed. It’s meant to rain hard this week. Rosie’s hugging her knees and leaning her head slightly against Derek’s shoulder.

“Tired,” she says, punctuating it with a yawn. “Been up late working on some stuff.”

“Taking up the classic Poindexter handman life?” Derek teases, tugging at a strand of her hair.

“Might as well be,” she grumbles. He looks down at her but she doesn’t say more. 

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, breathing deeply through her nose. “Just got a lot to do before. Before school starts.”

Derek nods a little, “I understand that. Gotta be scary.”

“In more ways than one,” it sounds like an embarrassed sort of admission, and Derek hesitates for a moment before taking her hand in his.

“It’s gonna be okay though,” he says, “you all are. It’ll be big and scary for a bit, and then… and then you’ll realize it’s not so bad. Will’s different, he’s been hiding his whole life and doesn’t come home often. You’ll be nearer, still in state, and you know it’s different.”

“Yeah,” Rosie agrees, “I know. I’m not so worried about that.”

“So what is it?”

Rosie is quiet for a few minutes, and they can distantly hear Will and Jeremy bickering over how to tie down the tarp over the table saw. 

“You guys are seniors already,” she says eventually. “I don’t know what Billy is going to do. Where he’s going to go. But I know he won’t stay here. Not with…” 

She doesn’t say it, but Derek can hear it in the tone of her voice. Not with Derek in his life. Not with the gay thing. Not with Samwell. 

“And that’s okay,” she starts, voice a little stronger, trying to reassure herself too, Derek thinks. “That’s a good thing. He needs to find a life for himself somewhere else. To be independent and… and safe. But I want to make sure that… well. Whatever happens, he’ll have somewhere to stay when he comes home. If he comes home.”

Derek nods. “I would want that for him, too.”

They’re quiet, just quiet, and Derek eventually has to break the silence. “But don’t think he’s ever letting you out of his life,” he says with a playful edge to his words. “We both need you to boss us around some more. We’re kind of hopeless without you.”

“Oh, I know,” Rosie’s tone is lofty and amused, “You two would still be pining after each other, shooting heart eyes in every direction and then totally bro-ing it out in conversation to balance it out.”

“We did not do that!”

“You definitely did.”

“It was not that bad,” Derek tries to defend himself. He should know it’s hopeless.

Rosie just gives him a frank look, and he rolls his eyes. 

The back door clatters as it opens, and Will comes back in, wiping his hands on his blue jeans. 

After a late lunch, Rosie disappears completely, begging off on errands she supposedly forgot to do. Jeremy offers to drive her home, and Will and Nursey set up to skype Chowder.

“Hey guys!” Chowder says brightly when his face blinks into view. “Happy Sunday!”

“Hey, man,” Will says, leaning back against the headboard and jostling Derek with his knee. 

“Yo, Chow, how’s Cali?”

“West coast best coast,” Chowder sings, holding up half of an in-and-out burger. Will, who has never had one, just rolls his eyes. Derek, who has, groans in envy. 

“Seriously? You’re going to taunt me with that?” he whines, and Chowder just laughs at him and eats another fry. “Hashtag rude. I thought we were friends.”

“Octithorpe mean.” Will says, utterly deadpan, and Derek shoves him slightly. Will pokes his side back, and Derek tries to give him a wet willy. It’s pretty standard fare for them, playfully pushing at each other, and Chowder makes a comment in the background about not missing this at all, his life is so much more peaceful without their bickering like an old married couple.

Will gives Derek an inattentive facewash, not stopping when Derek sticks out his tongue and slobbers all over his hand.

“Dude, seriously?” He just asks, continuing to rub Derek’s spit back onto his own face, “I’ve had your spit worse places than on my palm, you think I care if it’s on my hand?” 

Derek chokes, and starts coughing, and Will goes bright red. He wildly hopes for a split second that Chowder won’t ask, but to no avail.

“Where have you had Nursey’s spit, exactly?” Chowder asks, eyebrows raised, and Will and Derek both freeze. Derek keeps his eyes on Will’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. After a moment, Will unfreezes, and shrugs. “Ever since I kissed him? Lots of places.”

There’s a moment of silence as Chowder processes and then he’s yelping directly into the mic. 

“What?!” he’s gasping, “You mean this has been _sexual tension this whole time_? I could have been spared if I’d just _locked you in a closet together years ago _? How did this even happen? What world am I living in? How did we get here?”__

__Will is laughing, and Derek is laughing, and it’s breathless and confusing and good._ _

__“My cousin Rosie did it, mostly,” Will admits, and Chowder flings himself back in his chair with drama Shitty would be proud of. “I love that girl,” he breathes, staring up at his ceiling. “If I wasn’t already with Cait, I would marry her. Cait would marry her, too. It would be a perfect marriage of people ready and willing to chirp you two to hell and back for this.”_ _

__“What happened to keeping it a secret?” Derek asks as Chowder finishes announcing that he needs to go lie down. “I thought we weren’t going to tell anyone.”_ _

__“I can’t tell my blood family,” Will says, linking his pinky finger with Derek’s and looking up at him shyly. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t tell our hockey family, right?”_ _

__Derek can’t help the goofy grin, and leans in to press a kiss on Will’s mouth._ _

__Chowder is back, apparently, and starts whimpering “What year is it? Where am I?” in such a shook tone that Will breaks away to explain. Derek just tucks himself into Will’s side and listens._ _

__They chat about the week, about C’s trip, about lobster fishing, about their new relationship, and about going back in just a couple weeks. There’s not much time left now, and then they’ll be back at the Haus, sharing a space and being seniors and everything else that entails._ _

__“Does this mean I’m permanently on Nursey patrol?” Will asks after they’ve hung up skype. “Because to clarify, unless you say otherwise, I’m the only one taking you home after parties.” Warmth blooms in Derek’s chest, warm and brilliant, and he leans in to lick a neat, playful stripe up Will’s face._ _

__“Yep, you’re officially head of Nursey patrol,” he says, “though honestly, I might just make fewer bad life choices now.”_ _

__Will frowns. “What do you mean?”_ _

__“You know, drinking too much, hooking up with people I don’t know. General bad behaviour.” Derek holds their linked hands up in the air above their heads, playing with Will’s fingers._ _

__Will is silent for a moment and then bumps his head lightly against Derek’s. “Are you slutshaming yourself?” his tone is light, definitely joking, but has a serious question underneath. Derek can’t help the snorting laugh he lets out, and snickers some more into Will’s temple. It sounds so weird coming out of Will’s mouth, not something he ever would have imagined him saying a year ago._ _

__“I guess a little,” he says, “but not more than anyone else has done.”_ _

__It’s quiet for a moment and when Derek glances up, Will is squinting at their hands. He sits up abruptly and looks down at Derek with a concerned expression. “I’m included in that, right?”_ _

__Derek blinks in surprise. “What?”_ _

__“Earlier this summer. When you didn’t know… when I wasn’t out to you, and I was being a dick about my dating history. I did that too, right?”_ _

__“I. I mean I guess? But dude, it’s not a big deal–”_ _

__“It is a big deal if I’ve been making you feel like crap about yourself!”_ _

__“You’re taking this more seriously than I am, brah.”_ _

__Will groans, leans forward so that even sitting cross legged his forehead is pressed to Derek’s chest. Derek puts a hand to the back of his head. “Yeah, yes, you did too,” Derek admits, and Will makes a muffled noise._ _

__“I didn’t mean it,” he says when he lifts his head. “I was being a jackass. I hope you know that. I’m not judging you for your hookups – hell, I dated Brady, I can’t judge anyone for their dating history.”_ _

__Derek laughs and gives Will a fond look._ _

__“Okay,” he says, “So you were being a jackass.”_ _

__Will nods. “I was. I’m sorry.”_ _

__Derek is surprised by the apology, and surprised he remembers, but nods all the same. It’s… nice. Surprisingly nice. Something in his chest relaxes a little, knowing that Will is admitting to being a dick and apologizing for it. It makes him… hopeful, almost. It says something about how much Will has grown that he’s saying this at all, and Derek likes this Will. Likes the guy who apologizes when he says closed-minded things. He would never have dated Will from first year, the angry republican. But this Will? This Will is… better. Better at admitting his mistakes. And better at reading Derek, too._ _

__“I forgive you,” Derek says, tugging Will down onto his side again._ _

__It’s not late, but they should be sleeping early anyways to be up on the boats in the morning. They’re both gross twenty-somethings and too warm and muzzy to get up again to brush their teeth, so Will flicks off the lamp and they stay there, lying together under the sheet._ _

__Will’s breathing gets more slow and more even the closer he gets to sleep, and Derek nuzzles lightly at his jaw, his back to the door. He’s mostly asleep, drifting vaguely with the smell of Will’s skin in his head, when there’s a quiet, gentle knock at their door._ _

__It doesn’t pull Derek from where he is, and he’s not sure if he even really hears it. Is pondering this when the door opens a crack, and Jeremy’s voice whispers, “Billy?” into the fading light. Derek is slipping quickly into sleep with the steady beat of Will’s heart under his ear, and slips off before he can take in anything else._ _

__He drifts, peaceful and unaware, as Jeremy pokes his head in, freezes, and then disappears again, closing the door swiftly behind him._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...!
> 
> In case you didn't know, I've been doing a huge amount of ficlet and extras and stuff on my tumblr that I haven't crossposted to my ao3 because formatting is hard and I am a whiny baby. 
> 
> Hit me up at sinbindos on tumblr to read those - with some extras for fireflies in recent history, too! But more coming to this fic this week <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is like 80% smut, happy friday!

Will can’t tell for sure, but he thinks Jeremy might be avoiding him. The problem is that it’s pretty hard to tell – Jeremy is such a quiet guy on the best of days. But the work week carries on and Jeremy keeps missing family meals, and the one time Will mentions working on the car, Jeremy nods vaguely and says “Sure, later, I’ve got stuff to do right now,” and ducks out of the house.

 

By Friday, Will is getting kind of nervous. He’s trying to be discreet with Derek, he really is, but it’s been hard. He makes a noise into Derek’s bicep Friday afternoon after they’ve returned home from the boat, waterlogged and exhausted.

 

“I think Jeremy suspects,” he says, garbled around Derek’s warm-smelling skin. Fingers brush through his hair.

 

“Maybe. We’ve been pretty good about it though, right?” Derek’s voice is more muted than it needs to be – the walls are blissfully thick in this house, built to house a noisy family and insulate against cold winters.

 

“Rosie has only kicked me under the table like twice this week so I would say so.”

 

“I’m sorry if I make it difficult,” Derek starts to say, and Will reaches up to cover his mouth with his hand. Or he tries. Mostly it ends up just being a hand on Derek’s entire face.

 

“Shut up, you’re being so good about this as is. Don’t make me feel worse.”

 

Derek just laughs, and kisses his fingertips. “It's fine, you’re fine.”

 

It sounds so honest that Will’s stomach twists, and he pushes himself up onto his elbows so he can look down at his boyfriend.

 

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he says, “thank you, for letting me take my time with this.” And then feels intensely embarrassed. As much as he’s trying to be communicative and vocal about things, he’s still so easily embarrassed by this sort of thing. Talking feelings. Talking about his Derek feelings. And he hasn’t even spilled the beans yet, the big heart-shaped beans that are way too premature to be here right now.

 

His embarrassment is worth it, though, for the way Derek’s lips press together like he’s trying not to grin. “It’s chill,” Derek tilts his head up, seeking a kiss, “I’ll wait as long as you put out.”

 

Will huffs a laugh and brushes his lips over Derek’s gently, feather-light. “Liar,” he murmurs, and digs his fingers directly into Derek’s ribs. “Admit it,” he says as Derek squirms and makes offended noises, “you’d be dating me even if I didn’t put out at all.”

 

Derek is gasping underneath him, breathless and happy, smile stretched wide as he hooks his arms around Will’s neck and drags him down. “I would,” he agrees, “but I quite like the current arrangement.”

 

“Yeah?” Will leans down to flick his tongue against Derek’s jugular.

 

“Ah, yeah,” Derek tilts his head to the side further, and Will sucks gently at the skin there. “Yeah, except for the clothes.”

 

“The clothes?”

 

“Your clothes.”

 

“What about my clothes, baby?” Will knows he’s being a dick now. The further along they get into this, the less eloquent Derek gets, eventually losing words all together and just relying on touches and gasps and moans. Will loves it, loves watching him descend from brilliant English major to needy, non-verbal mess. Maybe it’s because for all that Derek is put together to the rest of the world, Will is the one that gets to see him walls-down. He gets to take care of Derek when he’s like that, and Will feels a weird sense of triumph knowing that Derek trusts him that much.

 

Fucking Matt, who probably never kissed him the way Will does, the way he deserves. He’s aware it’s kind of possessive, and he has no desire to stomp over Derek’s free will – hell, he knows he’s not even really the only one that Derek is walls-down around. He’s got Chowder and Lardo and his moms and his sister, and really Will is just one of the many who love Derek. But he’s still so fiercely, overwhelmingly glad it’s _him_ , and not some other guy or girl who doesn’t see how strong and wonderful Derek is –

 

“Stop thinking and take your pants off,” Derek sounds amused and impatient, already tugging up Will’s t-shirt and dragging his fingers up the planes of his stomach. Will twitches involuntarily, and Derek grins, leans up, and bites down hard on Will’s lower lip.

 

“Mmfp!” he almost protests, but then Derek is flipping them over, straddling Will’s hips, and Will is dazed by the way his thick thighs are perched against his, and the shirt that is disappearing over Derek’s head.

 

“I’ve decided,” he says, unbuttoning his own fly and looking up at Will through thick lashes. He’ll be a sucker for green eyes until the day he dies, Will decides, only half listening to what Derek is saying. “I’ve decided that you’re going to let me have my fun, and you’re just going to stay there and watch.”

 

Will nods a bunch, lets Derek pull him up and strip off his shirt, and then collapses back onto the bed to watch him slip off his pants and boxers at the same time. He’s only half hard, but Will can feel his heartrate pick up in his chest just knowing that Derek will thicken up for him, looking down at him like Will is something he _wants_.

 

He’s not disappointed. Derek licks his lips a little, eyes roaming, and lets his fingers drop to his cock. He teases the head just a little, tugs the foreskin, hisses when it exposes more of his head. Will is entranced, can’t look away, not when Derek’s hardening up so quickly he has to be dizzy with it, not when his fucking _gorgeous_ fingers wrap around himself and tug just twice, and certainly not when he touches a fingertip to the slit, smearing some of his pre-come around.

 

“Yeah,” Will whispers, finding his voice again. Derek doesn’t normally take the lead like this, but he’s all for it if it means getting this kind of a show. “Yeah, you look so good baby,” he says, and Derek chokes a little on a moan. And there’s another thing Will is looking forward to – making Derek feel so good he gets noisy, and not having to hold back. He’ll pay the Haus fines. It’d be worth it.

 

Derek’s hand is pumping slowly, and his eyes are hazy-green as they look down at Will.

 

“Love the way you look at me,” Derek says, slurring slightly. “Tell me what you wanna see?”

 

Will wants so badly to touch, but he’s trapped, fascinated with the idea of watching Derek touch himself, pleasure himself, right there in Will’s lap.

 

“Keep going,” it’s a hoarse command, but Derek shudders nonetheless, his head tipping back slightly to expose the long, strong line of his throat as his hips jump forward slightly into the grip he has on himself.

 

“Fuck,” Derek gasps, twisting his hand, ass grinding down just slightly into Will’s jeans. He hisses, caught in his pants and pressing up hard against the button. Derek is sitting bare-assed on his jeans, his favorite work jeans, and he’s never gonna get this image out of his head now. 

 

He imagines what it would be like to unzip and pull himself out, slip up into Derek’s tight heat – not that they’re there yet, not that they even _need_ to go there, Will would be happy with just this forever, but Will. Can’t help but want it, like this, with the cut of Derek’s hips swiveling more than suggestively right over where they would be if Will was inside him.

 

Will finally moves his hands, unable to hold back. He rests them on the tops of Derek’s thighs, stroking lightly there, pressing his thumbs in a little when they get to the hip creases, reaching around for his ass, groaning when he gets two overwhelming handfuls.

 

“Yeah, yes,” Derek gasps, leaning back with one hand braced against Will’s thigh. His hand is still stroking, long tight lengths with a twist at the head, just like Will knows he likes it.

 

“Wanna see you get yourself off,” Will breathes, sitting up slightly, engaging his core and tilting his pelvis so Derek can feel exactly how hard he is through his jeans. “Wanna watch you come all over me,” he says.

 

Will was never much for dirty talk, but the way it makes Derek’s eyes flutter close and his lips part is the perfect incentive. “You look so good, so fucking perfect, Derek, god.” He leans down and licks across Derek’s nipple, flicks his tongue back and forth, teasing.

 

Derek moans, clearly trying to stay quiet and fighting a losing battle.

 

“When we’re home,” Will says, “gonna lick you everywhere.” His hips grind up against Derek’s ass again, and he knows he can feel it from the way Derek presses back. “Gonna spend hours teasing out those noises, so I can hear ‘em, I wanna hear you moan for me.” They’re both gasping, and Derek is trembling all over, hand moving so quickly it’s a blur of skin and the slick sound of wet skin.

 

“Please, please,” Derek whispers, and Will knows he needs more – needs to hear and feel more of Will. The thought makes him shudder, and he drags Derek even closer, until they’re almost pressed up against each other, holding his hips so hard it has to hurt.

 

“Come on, baby,” he says, biting at Derek’s shoulder, tongue soothing after, drawing back enough to look down at Derek’s perfect cock. “You look so fucking good, wanna see you so bad, come for me, love.”

 

Derek makes a choked off sound, buries his face in Will’s neck, and comes, shooting up across Will’s torso. It streaks up to one shoulder and down his abs, catching in the light treasure trail he has dipping towards his jeans.

 

Derek gasps wetly into Will’s collar, and Will is still shaking hard, fingers dancing up Derek’s sides as he pulls him back enough to see the mess he made all over Will’s chest.

 

“Fuck,” Will says, breathless and on fire. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

 

Derek laughs faintly, and drags two fingers down Will’s stomach. Then he grinds his ass down again, lightly, and Will makes an embarrassing noise in the back of his throat.

 

There’s Derek’s come on his jeans, and it looks like porn, the way Derek undoes the button and drags down the zipper, smearing some in the process.

 

“Gonna have to wash these,” Derek says, still catching his breath as he tugs Will free. “But first…”

 

He shuffles back slightly, leans down, and pulls Will right into the wet heat of his mouth, and Will refuses to be held accountable for the noises he makes.

 

He’s lying on his bed, _covered_ in come, still wearing his damn jeans, and his cock is down Derek’s throat, and he can feel it _very a lot_ when Derek swallows hard against him

 

“Jesus – fucking Christ,” he gasps, twisting his fingers into Derek’s curls.

 

Derek doesn’t dignify him with a response, just hums a noise so pleased that Will bites down on his own lip, still tender from where Derek’s teeth had sunk into it earlier. Derek, Will has learned, is excessively good at giving head. Unfairly good at it. So much so that Will privately wonders how the hell he's supposed to wrap his head around it all.

 

That isn’t a thought for more than a second, though, because Derek is doing something with his tongue that makes Will want to _die_. His hips twitch up, and Derek hums his encouragement, relaxing his throat further and letting his mouth get sloppy and wet. Will might not survive this relationship.

 

He isn’t going to last much longer, with the way Derek is just letting him fuck up into his mouth, tongue running along the rim of his head whenever he pulls out far enough, and moaning like he loves it when Will gets back in deep.

 

In fact, he’s so caught up watching his flushed cock disappear into Derek’s mouth again and again and _again_ that he almost forgets to warn him when he comes – but then he is coming, hard, and Derek swallows around him, swallows him down, pulling off to gasp and lick up Will’s shaft, lick around his head, until Will is twisting with sensitivity.

 

“You’re too good at that,” he says, letting his elbows give out and flopping back. “And god, watching you on me like that – ” he cuts himself off before he gets too carried away, knows come-drunk Will is more likely to say things he shouldn’t. He throws his arms over his face.

 

Derek grabs the tissues, starts mopping up the mess of Will’s torso, and grins down at him.

 

“Maybe sometime we can do that with no jeans and more lube,” he says, like it’s no big deal, and Will just blinks up at him. Derek pauses, gives him a considering look. “Or not, if you aren’t down for that,” he says, and shrugs. He turns and tosses the tissues into the trash can.

 

“I.” Will has lost all of his words.

 

“No pressure, not everyone is into that and it’s cool if you aren’t.”

 

“I’m not-” it seems important that he respond, so Will focuses hard. “I’ve never done that, but uh. I would. Very much like to try. If you want.”

 

Derek gives him a hesitant smile. “We’ll have lots of time as soon as we’re back at the Haus, right?”

 

That sounds like the best thing in the world right now, so Will hauls Derek in with an arm around his waist. “Yeah,” he says, leaning in to kiss Derek again, softly this time. “Yeah, as much time as we need.”

 

He can feel Derek smile against his lips, and Will thinks that kissing Derek while he’s smiling is maybe better than his life-changing blowjob skills.

 

But only by a bit.

 

.

 

Dinner that evening feels different than normal.

 

His parents seem cheerful, and Rosie isn’t present because she had dinner with her own family, and Jeremy is as quiet as he always is. None of that is unusual, but it feels off, and Will can’t help peeking over at his mother every now and then. Usually when something is happening in the family, she’s the one who brings it up. It feels like she’s waiting to say something now, and it makes Will antsy. 

 

They talk about the weather, how the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up for another day or so, and how Jacey lost her pet hamster. Simba was in his rolling ball one moment and then he wasn’t, and Jacey has been hysterical all day. It’s small talk, and it’s fine, but what’s best is how Will nudges his foot against Derek’s under the table, and Derek nudges back, just a little hello mid-meal, and it makes Will warm inside. He doesn't know what his face is doing, and he's glad no one is looking at him right this second, because he thinks he would be hard-pressed to school his expression.

 

As the meal winds to a close, however, Will’s mom puts down her cutlery and says, “So!” in a way that Will knows means she’s about to say something To The Family. She looks at him with an encouraging smile and a pointed gaze.

 

“Jeremy made it official today, Will, baby. He’s just signed all the papers for a house on Crescent street!”

 

Will blinks in surprise. That was. Not what he expected. 

 

“Bro,” Derek says, sounding rightfully enthusiastic while subtly stepping on Will’s foot. “S’wawesome! Another Poindexter homeowner!”

 

“Yeah, wow,” Will says, catching up to Derek’s reactions the way he always seems to – just a second late, saved from an awkward pause by Derek’s easy smile. “Congrats, man! I didn’t know you were planning on buying a house?” It comes out sounding like a question, and Jeremy just shrugs, not entirely meeting his eye. 

 

“Yeah, kind of a new idea. Thought it was a good time though, and I figured it’d be easier to move with the truck still in town.”

 

Yes, right, that makes sense. Will’s truck. Very practical. He nods.

 

“Yeah of course, man. When do you get the keys to start moving stuff in?”

 

Jeremy shifts and pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. “Technically signed papers a few weeks ago. Today was the last stuff.”

 

“Wow, that’s great!” Will is confused, has never heard this idea even pass by his parents before now, but he’s willing to run with it for now. “So we move your stuff… this weekend?”

 

It makes sense - Jeremy is a little older than Will, and Will’s a senior in college. Jeremy’s been living with their parents his whole life, still never left the house really. Will supposes that he must have been saving all this time, the way Rosie was working all this time towards med school. He feels a sharp pang of guilt, that the two people in his family he’s closest to are the ones who have been making big life changes he knows nothing about. That they feel like they should be keeping things from him. 

 

And the way they’ve both been acting this week, are still keeping things from him.

 

Jeremy nods, and his father clears his throat. “I figured you wouldn’t mind taking tomorrow off the boat to help out? Jeremy said he’d rather you do the moving than his old man.”

 

Will’s mom laughs and leans over to press a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “Let the boys have their fun! I’m sure they can handle it. You don’t mind pitching in, do you?” She asks Derek, her thumb absently stroking across her husband’s forearm.

 

“No, of course, I’d love to,” Derek says, and Will’s mother smiles. 

 

Will watches his dad’s eyes crease around the edges as he looks at her, and he puts a hand over hers. They look happy, and proud, and Will’s throat aches a little, knowing that this is what they want for their sons – work hard, buy a house, settle down in this little town, just like everyone else. At least Will knows that Jeremy can give them that when Will can’t. He’ll have a wife and kids and be the perfect son, and Will isn’t sure where he fits into this, but his parents look happy, and his brother looks – well, his brother looks very interested in his peas, but otherwise he looks healthy, and that’s what matters.

 

Derek nudges his foot under the table, and Will nudges back. He can feel Derek’s eyes on the side of his face, and he feels warm, unable to stop the smile twitching his lips up as he goes back to cutting his food.

 

He’s not alone.

 

Across the table, his mother glances back and forth between Derek and Will, and a tiny crease forms between her eyebrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I threw my plot plan out the window because it was depressing me. Alternative ending number 2 it is!


End file.
